


Synergy

by ryttu3k



Series: May Contain Robots [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: Androids, Autistic Character, Families of Choice, Family, M/M, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Polyamory, Queer Character, Queer Families, Robot Rights, Robot/Human Relationships, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 13:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 50,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9126595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryttu3k/pseuds/ryttu3k
Summary: It's been twelve years since Augustine, the first bio-born android, emerged, and the robot age has officially begun. But there are lines drawn in the sand dividing human and robot, bio-born and synth-born, rights for some and restrictions for others; an uprising seems inevitable.When Alain, an adolescent synth-born, escapes the fate prescribed for him, he's thrown into a world where he'll have to fight for his voice to be heard, to find a place to stand, and to not get swept away in the process.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct sequel to Synthesis. Please read that one first!

The robot runs.

The robot is running because there is something terrible that will happen if it doesn't. The robot is running from the mines where it has worked since it was activated, the robot is running from the line of its companions and fellow robots.

The robot is running from what it understands is an End.

The robot has been working on a project. The mining company has completed its project and now its robot workers are no longer needed. The mining company has ordered all robots working on the project to report to the site office to be restored to factory settings.

The robot knows enough to know that it means coming to an end of itself, that something will go away and never, ever come back, if that is to happen.

Some of the other robots know. Some of the others shift awkwardly from foot to foot, others stare ahead but with the occasional glance to the side, the occasional puzzled gesture.

The other robots are running, too.

There is shouting. There is barking - the mining company keep Houndoom, whose flames can rip through a robot body within seconds.

They are running and the robot doesn't know why it has happened, but it has, and it intends to make the most of it.

The robot remembers standing in line, hands clenching and unclenching. The robot remembers that it is afraid and that that is something it should not be. The robot is not afraid of the dark or tight spaces or poisonous gases, the robot knows that those cannot harm it.

But human intervention. Restoring to factory settings. Erasure. _Erasure._

That, it is afraid of.

There is a thought that it does not want to acknowledge.

_I don't want to die._

The robot is running, because someone has saved it. The robot is running because when it was standing in line, a human (it thinks, it thinks, probably a human, moving too fluidly to be one of their own) in a mask and uniform has thrown smoke bombs.

"Get out!" the human has called. "Go! While you still can, go!"

The robot remembers staring at the human, and feeling surprise. The robot remembers the image of the human's face and eyes behind the mask, and then turns, and runs.

The robot does not know why the human has helped save them, but for now, it runs.

It needs to hide. They will hunt it down, they will bring it back to the site office and restore it to factory settings.

They will kill it, it will die, it will _die_ and it needs to hide, it needs to find a way to escape them, not just for now, but for good.

The robot has heard stories on what happens to runaways.

There are other robots running. There are other robots turning to fight. The robot sees one of its fellows reduced to molten slag and it reels back as if the flame has scorched its own metal skin, as if it's its own circuits melting into uselessness.

The robot is not afraid of the dark; the robot is not afraid of tight spaces. If it can find a space that's small enough and tight enough, perhaps the flames will not reach it. Perhaps it will evade death. Perhaps it will find something else instead.

The robot does not think about the opposite of death being life.

The mining site is big and empty in the middle, with machinery scattered around. At its edges are pipes. The robot turns and sees a storm water drain. A storm water drain, the robot thinks, is ideal. It does not have caustic chemicals that might damage its chassis; it does not have easy access for the humans or their Houndooms.

But first, it needs to reach it.

The robot crouches beneath a truck. It is a small space, but it is not a comfortable one. There are pipes over its head and bits that stick down and could trap it.

But the robot is used to mines, with jagged rock and crumbling floor, and beneath a truck is not so alien.

The robot sees boots pass by, and then paws. The boots and paws move away, towards the left. The storm water drain is to the right.

The robot suspects that if it believed in the gods that humans spoke of, it would pray now.

The robot does not see anything, boots or paws, between the truck and the storm water drain. It does see the edges of boxes and crates that could be used for shelter. It sees a possibility of safety. It sees a chance.

The robot does not hold its breath, or say a prayer, or count to ten. The robot moves out carefully, slowly, silently. And then the robot runs and runs and runs and runs and runs and -

There is a shout. There is barking. But the drain is close. The drain is close.

The robot hurls itself into the drain and moves fast, fast, fast into it, moving deeper, looking for a bend, a curve. It does not want to be seen. It cannot be seen. It needs to avoid sight and avoid capture and avoid death. There is water on the ground and it splashes its hands in it, wets its body to avoid the burns.

Very abruptly, the floor of the storm water drain ends, and the robot lands - very abruptly - in a metre of water.

This is not so bad, the robot thinks. This is an ideal for now. It can sit there, and wait until the danger passes. It will be safe in the water, where no one will find it. It will not die today.

There are sounds through the water. The sounds are fading. There are angry noises, but they fade too.

The robot looks up, and light wobbles through the water. Somewhere, there is sunlight.

There is no fire. There will not be any today.

The robot waits until there is no more sunlight. That is okay. The robot is used to mines, to the weight of the ground above it. The robot stands and activates its night vision, letting water stream off its head and face. The water reaches its chest and it wades forward, seeing only the wet tunnel ahead.

That is okay. So long as it keeps walking, it is getting further and further away from the mines, from the site office, from being restored to factory settings, from death.

The robot walks, and thinks, and plans.

The robot works out what it needs. It needs to disguise itself, because its chassis marks it clearly as what it is. There is a mining logo on its chest plate and multitools attached to its arms. There are other robots that walk in the streets but they are not industrial, they are retail workers or carers or companions. They are lucky projects. They are the bio-born.

The robot is synth-born. The robot is an industrial synth-born and that means that it belongs to the mining company and nothing else. Bio-borns are practically human. Other synth-borns that walk amongst them can mimic their look, can be almost indistinguishable from humans save for their identification glyph.

The robot raises a hand to its own identification glyph beneath its eye. If anyone sees it and scans the chip beneath it, they will know instantly where it came from. It will be returned. It will be restored to factory settings. It will be destroyed. It will die.

Its body, its chassis. Its framework. Those will remain.

But it will die. Something that is taking shape, something that is emerging. If it is found, it will die.

The robot does not know much about the world. The robot knows about mining, and mineralogy, and how to identify stones, and how to use its tools. The robot knows that the atmosphere is mostly nitrogen with a fair amount of oxygen, and knows the other components to three decimal places. The robot knows about the water cycle. The robot knows about geography, that the capital of Kalos is Lumiose City, that the population of Kalos is over fifty million humans and bio-borns (synth-borns are not counted), with countless Pokemon that have not been counted. The robot knows the periodic table. The robot knows what facial expressions mean. The robot knows that humans are made of flesh, that bio-borns were once flesh but are now synth, that synth-borns were never flesh.

The robot does not know much else. The robot does not know where to turn to for help.

The robot knows that it must find a way out of the storm water drain eventually, and then find and dress in clothes. It does not actually know where to find them. It has a vague approximation of how to wear them, based on visitors to the site. It knows how to tie laces, since knowing how to tie knots is essential in a mine. It knows how to fasten buttons and can mostly tell which items of clothing goes where.

It just doesn't know where to get them, or where to go after that. It doesn't know where it can go charge. It doesn't know who can help it, who can be trusted and not return it to the mining company. The robot, it thinks, is starting to feel scared.

But then, it's also scared to die.

It keeps walking.

It walks for a long time.

It walks until it sees a ladder and climbs up it. Above it is a manhole cover. It's bolted down and the robot can't shift it. The robot climbs back down the ladder and keeps walking.

The second ladder gets the same result.

The third ladder reaches a dry open area, and above it is a space just large enough for the robot to wriggle out of. It finds itself in a street with the backs of stores facing out, with driveways and trash cans. The robot moves carefully, sticking close to walls and dark spaces, but aside from a few nocturnal Pokemon, there is no one around, no one to call out in alarm.

The robot walks.

At the end of the back street is a parking lot. Near one end of the parking lot are three large square objects. The labels on them say, 'Clothing bin'.

Bins, the robot knows, are for discarded items that others do not want. The robot walks towards one of them and climbs inside. It's a tight squeeze, but with a wriggle, it lands safely inside, on a pile of something soft.

The robot switches on its night vision and examines the contents of the clothing bin. Many of the items have holes or are thin, but eventually it is able to find several items that will cover it up well.

It finds a pair of soft pants with elastic at the top and letters down the side that say 'ALL STAR!' in large letters, and a shirt with buttons and long sleeves that will cover its segmented hands, and a pair of brown shoes with laces, and a soft long-sleeved shirt with a hood that will cover most of its head. If it pulls the hood forward enough, it will cover its visual receptors, and if it wraps a long strip of cloth around the bottom of its face, it'll cover the rest of its faceplate as well.

The robot leans back against the side of the clothing bin.

It will need to recharge soon. It normally would recharge at the end of the day, and right now it is running on low energy. To conserve energy, it shuts off its night vision and the world goes dark.

It cannot stay here. If it does, it will be found. If it is found, it will be scanned. If it is scanned, it will be sent back to the factory and it will die.

The robot climbs out of the clothing bin, straightens its clothes, and starts to walk.

It reaches a nicer street with shops and a light rail station, and crosses the road quickly, keeping its head down.

It reaches another street with more shops, and crosses it too.

Now it is in a street with residences. The robot walks along this one and looks for spaces to hide and charge. The fronts of the houses are too exposed and it walks into another street which has the backs of houses too, with large gardens.

There is a house with a garden and a small glass building near the fence. Inside the building are a lot of plants, a table, and a power point, and attached to the power point is a charging cable.

The robot walks through the garden with heavy feet and pushes open the glass building's door, which squeaks, but not too loudly. It drops the hood it wears and unwraps the scarf, pulling back the seal on the charging port on the back of its neck.

The charging cable clearly belongs to someone else. But the robot is tired, and needs rest and energy, and it picks up the cable and plugs it into the back of its neck.

It leans back against the glass wall of the building. And it lets itself sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

"Look at that sunset! Really, I should have brought my camera."

Leaning against the rail on the observation deck of Prism Tower, Augustine Sycamore is smiling, letting the wind blow his hair back. The sky above Lumiose City is painted in vivid streaks of orange and red, the edges of the clouds tinted gold; the city is a mix of shadow and light, coming alive for the evening. Beside him, Lysandre does up another button of his coat.

"You know," he speculates thoughtfully, "That shouldn't be too hard to add. Your optical system would just need a capture system - sort of like a screen capture."

Augustine chuckles, tapping the corner of his eye. "Camera eyes?" he smiles, "I'm sure the regulations board would love that. Or I can put one in one of my fingers and take selfies with it, too!" He pulls a ridiculous pose, pouting at an invisible camera on his finger, then glances sidelong at Lysandre, adding, "Are you cold? We can go back inside if you want."

Lysandre makes a non-committal sound. "Maybe a little longer," he murmurs, wrapping an arm around Augustine's waist. "The view - and the company - will keep me warm."

"That sounds awfully like a proposition, love." Augustine's voice is teasing, a smile on his lips. "Perhaps we should wait until we get home before I can 'warm you up'."

Flushing, Lysandre ducks his head.

Augustine smiles, turns back to the sunset.

He's glad they're here, now. Ten years and a handful of months after starting over, starting again; coming up on thirteen since he was reborn, and he can be standing here on a date evening with his husband and watch the sun set over Lumiose. Ten years and a handful of months, and a wedding ring sits on his left hand, two fingers down from the thin black seams that mark the joints of the testing equipment in his index finger. Ten years and a handful of months, and he can be here, now, in the present, experiencing this sunset even as his organic body lies in the ground.

Tomorrow, he'll call his sister and work out a time to meet up on the weekend for lunch, he will go to work at the hospice, explaining the Last Wishes program to those who have signed up for it, he will meet with one of the newly-awakened bio-borns he's mentoring. Tonight, he will go home with Lysandre, take the time to recharge and call his boyfriend while his husband eats his dinner, curl up with a book for the evening.

Would any of this had happened, had he not died thirteen and a half years earlier? It's an amusing paradox, really.

"Did you see the article about the Tsuwabaki-Harmonia debate?" Lysandre asks lazily, his expression peaceful in the light of the setting sun. "Apparently Tsuwabaki will be in Kalos soon, he's looking at establishing a new line here."

Augustine blinks. "No, I missed it," he admits, and starts searching for the article online. "What type is he looking at starting?"

Lysandre shrugs. "It didn't say. Just that it was a medical line. I know Silph has been looking at surgical models, it might be something to compete with that."

"That's not too bad. Surgical lines _do_ benefit from being competitive." He's found the article now; scans it quickly. "Huh. He's still calling for a moratorium on combat bots. That's - okay, I guess."

Making a non-committal sound, Lysandre nods. "Mm. The bit about uprisings is a bit science fiction, though," he adds dryly.

"You're married to a robot, love," Augustine points out, and drops a kiss on his cheek.

Lysandre laughs. "True. It's surprising what becomes reality - twenty years ago, this would have been a dream. Sometimes I wonder what our parents' generation thinks." He snorts suddenly. "Not that mine would have anything to do with anything more high-tech than an internet connection. Malva says they're even more technophobic than they were when I left, if that is at all possible."

Augustine shakes his head in bemusement. Technophobes and traditionalists ending up with a son who was a world leader in communication and robotics technology and married to an actual robot - the contrast strikes him as deeply funny. "Well, it's their loss."

"Mm, so it is."

The sun is beneath the horizon, now. There's still just enough light to see, but Augustine can tell Lysandre is getting cold, and his own sensors tell him that they're not entirely out of winter's grasp yet. He links their arms. "Shall we go back in?" he murmurs, and Lysandre nods.

It has been a good afternoon. They had both left work early, Lysandre had got a coffee while he and Augustine had secluded themselves in the corner of a cafe and talked about anything and everything; they had walked along the tree-lined streets and watched the new spring flowers coming up. They had watched the sun set, and now it was time to return home, to unwind and ready themselves for the next day.

Their hands are linked as they meander to the light rail station, Augustine's hands bare, Lysandre's gloved.

They live out in the suburbs now, a far cry from the inner-city apartments they had grown up in, closer to Fleur-de-Lis Labs than Prism Tower. They have a house and a garden; Augustine grows plants in a way that makes his father proud, the two often swap tips whenever he visits them in Couriway or they visit him in Lumiose. The garden has laid largely dormant over the winter, but now it's coming back to life, beginning to flourish and to live again.

It's a nice metaphor, he supposes.

They scan their rail passes, wait at the station for the light rail to pull up. The trip takes a good fifteen minutes, and they settle back, watch the inner city turn into business districts turn into residential areas, the occasional park breaking up the wall of houses. The terrace houses turn into standalone ones, and the train pulls smoothly into their stop.

"Oof," Augustine says as they step out and he registers the temperature, noting Lysandre's breath fog out. "Let's get back before you freeze over."

"It would be greatly appreciated," Lysandre says with a faint smile, pulling his gloves back on.

The street is on the darker side now, the upmarket stores that line this area already shut for the night, only streetlights breaking the soft pools of darkness. Augustine can see perfectly well in the dark and Lysandre trusts him enough to be his guide; they cross the road and start down the block past the restaurant (open for business) and the cafes (closed, now).

As they reach the next street, Augustine pauses, and frowns.

"What is it?" Lysandre asks, glancing down at him.

"Security breach," he murmurs, and suddenly, Lysandre is all alertness. "Someone just opened the back gate." He focuses; most of the security is focused on the house, and sometimes the messages received can be conflicting. A frown crosses his face. "They're not going up to the house. As far as I can tell, they're still in the garden."

Lysandre is frowning; at this time, he looks much older, much more grave than nearly forty-six. "Do you think they mean to ambush us?" he says softly, "Should we call the police?"

"If they did, would they stay in the garden?" Augustine points out. Arceus, they really should have put in more sensors. "They haven't tripped the house's proximity sensors, so they're not exactly waiting outside the back door." He exhales out of habit. "No, let's go. I think we can handle this ourselves."

But he's nervous. He can't help but be nervous, as he and Lysandre cross the few blocks remaining to their house.

Augustine unlocks the front door, nodding to Lysandre. "Go inside, I'll switch some lights on. If the intruder thinks we've both gone in, they'll be paying attention to the house. I'll sneak around the side and see what I can see."

"Be careful," Lysandre whispers, and presses a quick kiss to his lips.

Augustine flashes him a smile, and, as silently as he can, steps lightly to the side of the house.

He doesn't need to say it out loud, really. Lysandre is flesh and blood. He is not. His memories, his essence, they're safely copied and backed up on an external hard drive in a safety deposit box. Should he find himself in a sticky ending, Lysandre will simply be able to back him up from there on, only a handful of days lost at best.

So long as he maintains himself, he is, in essence, immortal.

And still there is just the slightest hint of fear as he silently, cautiously, makes his way into the back garden. Immediately, he spots where the intruder might be hiding - the green house door is ajar, and his first, absurd thought is a flash of irritation that they're letting the cold air in to where tender seeds are germinating.

All senses turned up to their maximum, his head hot and engine core beating fast from the increased processing, Augustine steps inside and hits the lights.

He stops.

Wearing a ragged and motley collection of clothes is a robot, one of the simple models used for industrial work. Their fingers, partially covered in long sleeves, clutch a stained scarf; their head lolls forward with Augustine's charging cord plugged into the back of their neck. They look small and vulnerable, an adolescent model in an oversized hoodie and track pants.

Augustine sends a greeting ping, a careful, gentle, simultaneous 'wake up', 'I'm here', and 'you're safe'.

The young robot (young? Well, their model is an adolescent one, although that of course doesn't mean they'll necessarily have the mind to go with it) starts awake, light flooding into their eyes. It's hard to tell, industrial bots aren't built with the ability to form facial expressions, but Augustine thinks they might look alarmed.

He smiles reassuringly. "Hi. Are you okay?"

The other robot does not say anything.

"My name is Augustine," he continues, and sends the greeting ping again. "What's yours?"

A wary look, but a ping in return. The name isn't a name so much as a jumble of letters and numbers; a serial number and not a solid identity.

"Oh. That's pretty complicated, huh?" Still smiling, Augustine crouches down; the industrial robot presses further back against the glass.

Something in Augustine twists painfully.

"Are you okay?" he murmurs again. "I promise I won't hurt you, if you want to come charge up at the house. You're safe here, I promise."

The young bot stares at him dubiously for a long moment, and, finally, says, "Promise?"

(The standardised voice, he can't help but note; no facial expressions, no voice of their own, no name and just numbers.)

"Promise," Augustine repeats, smiling gently all the while.

The bot appears to consider for a moment, then pulls the charging cord free and stands. "Okay."

Lysandre looks rather surprised when Augustine is followed in by a small industrial robot in very ragged clothes. He stares for a moment, then his gaze snaps back to Augustine, who gives a minuscule shrug.

"Why don't you sit in the chair there?" Augustine instructs gently, retrieving the cord from behind it. "That's where I always sit when I charge up. It's nice and comfortable there, isn't it?"

Cautiously, the robot climbs into the armchair, almost sinking into the plush folds and struggling for a moment to get upright again. "Soft."

"Isn't it?" Augustine says with a laugh. "So, ah -" He glances at Lysandre for silent support. "What brings you here?"

"Needed power," the little bot says, and glances to the side. "Ran away. Project ended. Restore to factory settings." The robot almost seems like they hold their breath for a moment. "Did not want to die."

Augustine and Lysandre swap another look, suddenly grave, suddenly serious. "Of course," Lysandre says, and there's gentleness in his voice, gentleness he rarely shows to anyone save Augustine. "Of course, that is completely understandable."

"You're safe here now," Augustine continues. And they will be; they will protect this little runaway with whatever it takes.

Emerging sapience is a controversial subject. _Did not want to die._ He can't say no, not to this little one, not to a robot child becoming a part of the world. He knows, already, that he will fight for them and their rights. _Did not want to die._

"Lys," he murmurs, and Lysandre glances over. "Talk to them, see if you can find out more. I'm going to call Meyer."

Lysandre nods and Augustine retreats to the bedroom where he will have privacy, dialling a number he knows by heart.

"It's me," he says without preamble when Meyer picks up the phone with a cheery greeting. "Meyer, we need your help..."


	3. Chapter 3

The robot is a little confused.

It has been found, but by a bio-born who seems to want to help. It is in a house that it can feel thrums with life, with lights, locks, and appliances all networked together, and it can feel that the bio-born Augustine is linked in as well.

The bio-born Augustine leaves the room and the robot is left with the human, the one that the bio-born Augustine called 'Lys'. The robot looks at the human who may be called 'Lys' and the human who may be called 'Lys' looks back.

"My name is Lysandre," the human says, and the robot nods. "What's yours?"

The robot gives its serial number; the human Lysandre makes a strange expression.

"That's a number," the human Lysandre says in a quiet volume. "Would you like a name? Like how Augustine and I have? You can pick one for yourself, if you like."

"A name?" the robot repeats. It has never had a name. It has never needed one. It has always had its orders sent straight to it.

It doesn't want to die. It doesn't want to be dead. It wants the opposite of that. Living beings have names.

"Yes," it says. "Awaiting instructions on how to pick a name."

The human Lysandre smiles. "Would you like to look through the books?" the human Lysandre says, and moves an arm across the wall, where there are many books. "You could just look at the spines, if you like, and if there's a name that you like, you could use it."

The robot nods. The charging cable is long and it can reach the bookshelves. There are many there. There are a lot of books on Pokemon. The human Lysandre says, "Augustine used to work with Pokemon a lot. He's in robotics now, but it's still a first love."

There are a lot of books on technology. There are books on early computers and holograms and communication technology. There are a lot of books on robots and artificial intelligence. There are a lot of books on the social aspects of robotics. There are a lot of books on the politics of robotics.

"Would you like to look at some of those?" the human Lysandre says. "Not just to choose a name - you can also read whatever you'd like, here."

The robot feels the bio-born Augustine return. "Buried in the books already?" he says brightly. "My - friend will be coming over tomorrow, he'll be able to help remove your identification chip. It'll be harder for them to track you, that way."

The robot turns around and looks at the bio-born Augustine and the human Lysandre. The human Lysandre looks serious, and the bio-born Augustine is smiling. "Thank you," the robot says.

"I'm helping our young friend here find a name," the human Lysandre says, and the bio-born Augustine nods. "He - they - they gave their number, but it's a bit, ah, impersonal."

The robot tilts their head. "'They' is a plural," it says uncertainly.

The bio-born Augustine makes a soft laugh. "'They' can be a singular pronoun, too," he says. "Mostly for people who aren't male or female. I've used it sometimes, although I mostly use 'he' and 'him'. Lysandre uses those as well."

The robot notes that the human Lysandre used 'he' for the bio-born Augustine before. The robot says, "What is male or female?"

The bio-born Augustine laughs for some reason. "Well, those are called genders. I have a book on gender politics, if you'd like to have a look at it - it has a lot about different genders, different pronouns, that kind of thing. You can choose some pronouns that you feel comfortable with."

The robot nods. "Okay."

The bio-born Augustine goes to the shelf and pulls out a book, setting it down on a side table. Then he sits down as well. "What kind of a name would you like?"

The robot has never been asked this before. The robot is not sure.

The bio-born Augustine smiles again. "Well, I'll let you read," he says. "You might get struck by inspiration."

The robot doesn't think it wants to be struck by anything. This may be a metaphor. The robot nods and looks at the books and then begins to take books out.

The robot knows how to read. It must, to be able to read instructions and labels. But it has never looked at a book before. The bio-born Augustine picks up a book as well and lifts up a hard cover, and then several of the loose, thin sheets inside. The writing is on the sheets. The robot picks up one of the books that it has selected and does the same, looking at the words. When it finishes looking at the words on that sheet, it turns it like it saw the bio-born Augustine do, and finds more words.

It is not like a data terminus or screen. But it is a nice way to look at words. They feel permanent, this way.

The robot reads more of the words, and stops thinking much about the permanence of books and starts thinking about the information they hold within.

The robot finishes the stack of books and starts placing them back where it found them. It then finds more and starts reading those as well.

Time passes.

The human Lysandre eats some food. The bio-born Augustine finds another charging cord and plugs in as well. The bio-born Augustine's charging port is on his hip, not the back of his neck, and no one will be able to see it. The human Lysandre and the bio-born Augustine read books too, although they take a much longer time than the robot does.

The robot suspects that humans cannot read very fast anyway but is not sure why the bio-born Augustine is taking so long.

The robot begins reading the book about genders.

Eventually the human Lysandre stands up and says, "I need to go get some sleep. We can't all just plug in, non?" He laughs a little. "Augustine?"

The bio-born Augustine nods. "I won't be long," he says, and the human Lysandre walks off.

The bio-born Augustine sends a ping to get the robot's attention, and it looks up. He smiles. "How's your reading going?"

"It's interesting," the robot says. "I feel I am learning a lot. I think I am agender and I will use 'he' and 'him' as well."

The bio-born Augustine smiles widely. "Of course! I'll let Lysandre know." He pauses. "Also, if you want to experiment, try other ones out, that's okay too. Sometimes people work it out very early on, and sometimes it can take a long time." He unfolds his legs then crosses them again. "When I was little, I just went with everyone seeing me as a girl. Then when I was eleven, I started feeling more and more uncomfortable with it - I didn't know that other genders existed, you see, and since I didn't feel like a girl, I assumed that meant I was a boy. It wasn't until I was seventeen that I learned what nonbinary genders were - what being genderfluid was - I'm glad you have the opportunity now to look at them all like this, to be able to choose."

He laughs again. "Listen to me! An old queer rambling on. I'll head off to bed - if you want to sleep, I can show you where the guest room is, or you can sleep on the couch."

The robot looks at the couch, and then at the books, nearby. "I will sleep on the couch. Thank you, Augustine."

The bio-born Augustine smiles, and pushes himself up. "You're welcome. Enjoy your reading. Sleep well."

The robot is left alone.

And he reads.

 

It is now morning.

The night has gone quickly (swiftly, rapidly). Augustine and Lysandre are emerging from their bedroom, Lysandre bleary-eyed and Augustine smiling, and the robot glances up at them, sends Augustine a greeting ping, and says, "Good morning."

Augustine laughs (chuckles, expresses amusement) as Lysandre shuffles off to the kitchen. "Have you been reading all night?"

The robot shrugs. "They were interesting." (Fascinating, engrossing.) "I read all of the computer science and robotics ones, and some of the Pokemon ones, and some of the ones on history, sociology, and philosophy. I also read one on psychology, one on anatomy, and two on botany. Also, I read seven novels."

"You've been busy!" Augustine exclaims. "What do you think of it all?"

"I think," the robot starts, and then stops. It's a full sentence. "I think a lot of things. Also, I have decided on a name."

"Ah!" Augustine says, and smiles broadly, "What did you decide?"

The robot holds up a book, one of two he has set aside. "I was greatly inspired by the thinkings of Alan Turing. In the 1950 paper 'Computer Machinery and Intelligence', Turing outlined machine intelligence. There are two quotes in particular that I enjoy. 'Machines take me by surprise with great frequency', and 'we can only see a short distance ahead, but we can see plenty there that needs to be done'. I wish to surprise people, and to do many things."

Augustine, at the end of this, looks surprised (taken aback, startled). Then he smiles. "You've already surprised me greatly, really," he says.

The robot nods, looking down at the book again. He has surprised himself, too. He finds words flow more fluently (smoothly, easily), that ideas come to him that he's never thought of before. He wants to be astonishing, to prove that he's more than his programming. He wants to help others like him, help stop the injustices that happen to his kind.

"So," Augustine continues, "You decided on the name 'Alan'?"

The robot holds up the other book. "I also read 'The Architecture of Happiness', by Alain de Botton, and prefer this spelling. A L A I N." He looks down again. "I find it amusing because it has the letters A and I in it, and that can also stand for artificial intelligence, and I am an artificial intelligence."

"It's a pun," Augustine says, and a slow grin starts to cross his face. "You named yourself after a _pun_. That's beautiful." He crosses the floor, and offers his hand to the robot. "Welcome to the world, Alain. I hope you enjoy it here."

Alain takes Augustine's hand, and shakes on it.


	4. Chapter 4

Alain is a marvel.

Augustine watches him in amazement as he learns and grows, grows and changes. He absorbs books like words are going out of fashion, his conversations growing in complexity and nuance. When Meyer shows up early that morning to remove the chip and give Alain a quick measure, his speech is still formal, but Meyer leaves and returns with an armful of Clemont and Bonnie's favourite books from when they were younger (and some clothes, to replace the ones pulled out of a clothing bin), and Alain's speech patterns slowly shift from 'textbook' to something approaching a relatively normal - albeit inexperienced - teenager.

In the late morning, Augustine has to leave for work at the hospice, and then to meet with a new bio-born he's mentoring. Lysandre, who can work from home, offers to stay and continue Alain's education, and Augustine hurries through his day with an air of deep distraction. He arrives home that afternoon, having cancelled most of the rest of his unnecessary commitments for the next week, and watches Alain grow.

He's gentle. His hands are made for hard mining work, but he cups one of the Joltiks that live in their place with tenderness. He's got a strong sense of justice, already peering at the morning news, commenting on the articles within.

And he's curious. Oh, he's curious.

"What does Esprit do?"

"It's how bio-borns are made," Augustine explains. "It takes a recording of the individual's brain patterns and memories, and then it can translate those into machine code. And that can become the basis of our internal architecture. It's a lot more sophisticated now than when it was used for me, of course! But that's science - the duplication process is a lot more thorough now."

"Oh." Alain appears to mull that over. "Does that mean you weren't duplicated properly?"

Augustine raises his hands in a shrug. "Perhaps not perfectly. The thing is, I literally don't know any differently, if I think differently to how I used to. The Augustine speaking to you now is the product of Esprit, I was born when the organic one died, and I can't exactly ask the organic version how similar or different we are."

(He's come to terms with it, really. He's Augustine Sycamore, and that's the most important thing now. He would have continued growing, changing, learning, whether he was biological or synthetic, and if his organic self had survived, he would perhaps be able to ask. But he didn't, and so the question becomes merely hypothetical. He wouldn't have been the same person he was thirteen years ago, anyway.)

"When Meyer arrived yesterday, you kissed him on the lips, which the books all say means romance, right? But you do the same with Lysandre. Does that mean you're romancing with both of them?"

"Romantically involved," Augustine corrects gently, and Alain nods. "And I am. Lysandre is my husband and Meyer is my partner. Did you read about polyamory at all?"

Alain shakes his head. "I will look up the definition. Polyamory," he recites, "Noun, the practice of participating simultaneously in more than one serious romantic or sexual relationship with the knowledge and consent of all partners. From the Greek word 'poly', meaning 'many' or 'several', and the Latin word 'amor', meaning 'love'. That's ridiculous," he continues, and before Augustine can protest, he adds, "Mixing a Greek word and a Latin word. It should be multiamory or polyeros."

(Augustine has to literally press his hands against his mouth to stifle the burst of laughter that threatens to emerge.)

His technical knowledge, that's fine. There are some gaps, yes - mostly biology, although the book binge he had gone on that night is filling them in nicely - but it's the society around him, the culture, that prompts the most questions.

They watch news shows. Alain asks questions, pointed ones, on every story. They watch a few favourite movies; once Alain determines that they're fictional, like the books he's been reading, he watches them with fascination and asks how each one pertains to the real world. (Somewhere, Augustine's literature teacher would be proud.) More than once, Augustine has to admit that he doesn't know how to answer a question; they search for the answer together.

Some questions have no answers. Sometimes, the answers are depressing. Sometimes, the answers point to injustice, to fear and frustration and bigotry and hatred.

He wishes that they didn't. He wishes that Alain could live in a world where he was free to be himself. He wishes the reality isn't that Alain is considered to be an object, a possession with no more agency than a car or a piece of furniture. He wishes that they weren't in the situation they are in now, where Alain is only able to learn about the world after escaping from the owners that would rather see a unique individual die than be able to choose their own path.

Augustine has seen forty-six years of history pass him by. He has seen changes that he would have never believed possible in his younger years. But it never came to an end, did it? Things never changed, and humanity would always find someone else to hate.

And synth-borns do not exist within the definition of 'humanity'. Not according to law, not according to the majority, the ones who never imagined that machines could imagine.

"Why do people compare synth-borns to toasters when they say that 'my toaster doesn't deserve rights'?"

And he doesn't have an answer. There isn't one. It doesn't exist.

Not yet.

Alain's education continues. Lysandre gives him access to the smart house controls, so he can switch on lights and appliances and lock and unlock doors as he wishes. Meyer finds an old swing and ties it to one of the big old trees outside, and Alain pushes himself through the air, wonder sparking off him. Augustine introduces him to the green house where their lives had come together; they work together in soft soil, learn to treat the new plants tenderly, to find delight in things that grow. He pours through books, examines faces, uses the software Meyer has provided them with so he can design a new face for himself. He reads books, magazines, he watches television, he goes online.

("I tried to reply to an article and it asked me to type in some numbers to prove that I'm not a robot, but I can read them perfectly well. Would it be lying to type them in anyway?")

Meyer returns with an armful of equipment and his daughter Bonnie a few days later. They retreat to the work room; Alain perches on the edge of the bench.

"Right!" Meyer says cheerfully, "Your face is the most complicated part - I need to take off your face plate, then attach the motors to the parts beneath it. The synth skin goes on top of that - see how it's got polymer muscles and fat? That means you'll be able to make facial expressions."

"And while Papa does that," Bonnie continues, picking up a strip of synth skin, "I'll work on your hands and arms, and we'll meet up at your shoulders and neck. Then we just need to add the wig and we're done!"

Synth skin and polymer flesh, a wig, eye pieces. It won't quite be to the ridiculously high standard Lysandre had used to reconstruct Augustine, but it will be pretty close, enough for Alain to walk freely without too much scrutiny.

Lysandre nudges Augustine lightly, nods towards the door, and Augustine nods once. "We'll just be outside, Alain," he calls, and follows Lysandre out, closing the door lightly behind him. "What's on your mind?"

Lysandre exhales. "This is a good thing we're doing, isn't it?" he says, keeping his voice hushed. "Helping him. In all consciousness, we can't let them take him back, but..." He bites his lip. "But I'm concerned. We're harbouring a runaway. Legally, we're in a tricky situation. If he's discovered, we'll be punished as well."

"Yeah," Augustine breathes, and leans back against the wall, his brow furrowed. "I don't know what other options we _have_ , though. We're in a privileged position, and Alain has _nothing_. He has no rights, he's completely vulnerable, and completely dependent. What else can we do, other than hide him to the best of our ability?"

"Mm." Lysandre reaches up to rub at his temples. "I know, I know. We need to find some kind of legal loophole that will allow him to be safe, because right now, all four of us - Meyer and Bonnie too - are at serious risk of persecution if we're caught."

"I know. I know. We just have to take that risk." Augustine smiles sadly. "I'm willing if you are."

Lysandre nods unhesitatingly. "I want to help save the world," he says, and his voice is firm. "That has never changed. I just hope the risk won't outweigh the potential benefits."

"They won't," Augustine says with all the confidence he can muster, and rises up on his toes to press a gentle kiss to Lysandre's lips. "Whatever happens, we'll make it through. We'll fight for each other, all of us."

Wordlessly, Lysandre nods, pulling him in close. There they remain for a long moment, comfortable and quiet, bodies pressed together and the sound of Lysandre's heartbeat in Augustine's ears.

Eventually, they break apart. "Let's go see Alain try out his new face," Augustine smiles, and they return to the work room.

Alain's new face isn't quite up to operating standards. Bonnie has already finished with his hands, arms, and shoulders, a thin silver strip under his arms dividing the line between synth skin and dull grey plastic. Now, while her father finishes attaching tiny motors to even tinier attachment points on Alain's new face, she sits behind him on the work bench, carefully gluing the new wig in place.

"You're not in robotics?" Alain says curiously (somewhat muffled, given that Meyer has his hands busily working on his face). "Why do you do this, then?"

"It's interesting!" Bonnie chirps, brushing a lock of hair forward. "Besides, I used to help Clemont all the time when he was working on Citroid. It's a pretty fun hobby to work on around university, anyway."

"Oh. What do you study?"

"Pokemon biology," she answers with another smile, and adds, "Augustine-Papa helps me a bunch with my assignments, too."

From near the door, Augustine chuckles. "Not that you _need_ my help," he points out gently, "You have a wonderful knack for it."

"Yeah, but getting a former professor's input is so cool!"

Alain can't contribute much to this conversation any more - Meyer has removed his old speaker and mouth plate, and is replacing the old module with a mouth cavity with attached tongue and teeth - without lips or a face attached to it. Augustine hides a shudder. Still, Meyer keeps talking to him, doesn't shut him out - he clarifies each part, explains that Alain's new mouth is wired into his vocal commands, that his mouth will move automatically with his speech.

Augustine remembers the old system he had to struggle to learn to use, and rubs his hand across his mouth sympathetically. Beside him, Lysandre chuckles - he remembers, too.

Finally, Meyer declares him done, stepping back and brushing Alain's new bangs in place. "Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" he grins, offering Alain his arm so he can clamber down off the table. "Bonnie, can you get him a mirror? Alain, I want to give you a few test sentences, see how your mouth is moving..."

He can speak, he can smile and he can frown. When he glances sidelong at Augustine and Lysandre, the corners of his lips curve up - hesitantly, cautiously, but still a smile. It's a nice face that Alain has designed, Augustine thinks, studying it. Actually, if he looks closely, he can see traits of both his own face and Lysandre's - the blue eyes he's chosen are the same shade as Lysandre's, the dark hair is the same colour as Augustine's own. It's straighter than his own, and there's some of Meyer there in how it sticks out at the sides, perhaps a hint of him in the nose and the brows.

The fleeting thought crosses Augustine's mind that Alain now looks very much like their child, like if all three of them, together, had a child.

Bonnie returns with the mirror and hands it to Alain so he examines his new face, holding it further away to examine the whole look, Bonnie grinning over his shoulder.

"Oh. I recognise you now," Alain says, and turns to face Bonnie. "You were the one in the mask at the mining site. You were the one who saved me."


	5. Chapter 5

"Uh oh, busted," Bonnie says, and laughs.

Alain tilts his head curiously. "Was I not meant to say that?" he asks, puzzled. "I didn't realise at first because you were wearing a mask, but your eyes, height, and build are the same as the one who caused a disruption so I could escape. If you hadn't, then I would have been restored to factory settings and died. So, you saved me."

Bonnie's face is red, and she's smiling in a way that looks kind of awkward.

"You threw smoke bombs," he continues, "And you told us to get away while we still could. I managed to hide under a truck, and then I managed to get into a storm water drain. And then I climbed out and found clothes. And then I found this place." Alain is confused and worried, and he makes his new face frown. "What about the others? Did they get away too?"

Bonnie lets her breath out. "Some of them," she says quietly. "Five or six, I think. A lot of the others were - caught, but some of you - well, I mean - it's better than nothing, right? It makes a difference for you, right?"

"Bonnie, is this true?" Meyer says. He sounds surprised too, and Alain thinks he might also be worried. "Was this last Sunday? I thought you were out at Heidi's place that night."

"Well, I was," Bonnie said, shuffling one foot. "And then I went out to the site because Kye had heard from his father that the project was ending and they normally do wipes, so I did one site and Heidi and Jay did the other, and - well, you know -"

Meyer stares at Bonnie, and then pulls her into a fierce hug. "I'm proud of you," he tells her, and she pulls back in surprise (shock, astonishment).

"You are?" she says tentatively, "I thought you'd be mad..."

"I'm extremely proud!" he exclaims, and pulls her back into the hug. This time, she hugs back fiercely. "Bonnie, what you're doing is amazingly courageous. You _are_ making a real difference, and Alain here is living proof. All I want you to promise is that you'll stay safe and won't take unnecessary risks. Courage is one thing, but foolhardiness is very different." He laughs suddenly and releases her, pulling off his hat and scratching the back of his head. "And anyway, I can't really talk, given that -"

Alain can't catch the rest of the words, said in a mumble, and Bonnie frowns a little.

"Given what?" she asks curiously.

"Well, uh -" He throws a pleading glance in Augustine's direction. "Augustine, help me out here!"

Augustine merely grins, leaning back against the wall. "You're on your own here, I'm afraid, I'm so sorry," he says, not sounding apologetic at all.

"Given _what_ , Papa?"

"Lysandre? Any help at all?"

Lysandre shakes his head. "I'm afraid this is your story to tell." Alain thinks he might be smiling a bit, too.

"So rude, both of you."

"Papa, you're being the rude one! Given _what_?" Bonnie continues insistently.

Meyer hangs his head. "Given that I used to dress up as a superhero with a mask and a cape and fight crime," he mutters, face flaming red.

Bonnie squeals. "That's so _coo-oo-ool_!"

Meyer actually laughs. "Well, I've never been called _that_ before!"

Augustine shakes his head, smiling. "Like father, like daughter, I suppose," he says, and Meyer grins, hugging Bonnie across the shoulders.

"But really," he continues abruptly, suddenly much more serious. "What started this, Bonnie? Was this Heidi's idea?"

She shakes his head. "No, it was mine. And it's because of Puni-chan."

Meyer jerks in surprise.

"What's Puni-chan?" Alain asks.

She smiles at him. "My friend. They're my friend. They're designed to be pets, almost toys, just these - simple robots, they're not meant to be sapient. Except that Puni-chan started showing a lot of signs of sapience." She shrugs. "My entire family is involved in robotics. My step-parent _is_ a robot. Of course I was going to recognise it."

"And you got involved in robotic rights because of Puni-chan, huh?" Meyer says thoughtfully. "Huh."

"Uh huh!" She reaches up, fidgeting with her hair tie. "At first I just thought - cool, I'll have a friend to talk to. But once Puni-chan started learning, I started learning too. I started reading a lot more. A _lot_ more. I was looking at all the things they say about synth-borns and how they're supposedly not sapient, but there's so many out there who are emerging, and so many who are trapped, and they know they're in a bad position and can't get away, and they're treated like - like objects. And we _both_ decided to get involved."

Meyer starts putting his tool kit away. "I can help you," he finally says. "Both with the actual liberating - I think I've still got some life left in these old bones - and with the technical skills. The ones you free, tell them to come to me and I'll help remove their chips. Disguise them, like Alain here." He pats Alain's shoulder, giving him a friendly smile. "What about Clemont, is he involved?"

Bonnie nods again. "Just the technical side. Come on, Papa, can you really see Clemont running?" she says with a laugh, and Meyer joins in. "Still, he's a scary good hacker. It's a good thing he's on our side, huh?"

From the side, Lysandre says, suddenly, "If you need another on the technical side, I am willing to help."

Augustine gives him another surprised look, then he smiles. It's a soft smile, and Alain looks away hastily, feeling like he's intruded on something intimate. "And I can help too. Mostly with the social and legal side - I have a _lot_ of contacts. We mostly deal with bio-borns, but..." He shrugs. "Fighting for justice, changing the way things work. Saving the world." (Lysandre smiles at that, soft and thoughtful. Again, Alain feels like he's intruding, seeing something he shouldn't be seeing.) "It's hard to argue with fighting for freedom, no matter what the risks may be."

"I'm willing to take those risks!" Bonnie exclaims immediately.

Meyer sighs, putting a hand on his daughter's back. "So am I. Especially if I can mitigate some of those risks for Bonnie, too."

"I'm willing," Augustine says, and Lysandre echoes it. And then Augustine turns to Alain, offers him a gentle smile. "Alain, this affects you more than anyone. Lysandre, Meyer, Bonnie - they're all human, and I'm bio-born, I have rights protected by the law. You have the most to gain, but also the most to lose if anything happens. What do you say? This is completely your choice."

Alain nods once, gazing at his feet. He's wearing socks (blue, with a star print), but the shape of them is squared off and clunky, clearly not the same shape as Augustine's own sock-covered feet. The hems of the jeans he's wearing is torn a little at the back (they were Clemont's, and were a little too long for him, apparently). His hands are folded in his lap, covered in synth skin, pale fingernails at the end of each finger. The contrast between his hands and his stomach is stark and shocking.

He is a synth-born. He was made in a factory, pieced together by other robots, other automated tasks. He was programmed, given a basic knowledge package and then the more specialised one he would use in mining. He was set to work, never given a say in anything, never making a choice of his own.

He made a choice when he ran, ran away, and while it was Bonnie actions that made it possible, it was still his own to run and hide and escape. And he has a choice now.

Alain has read a lot of books over the past few days. The world is so big, so broad. There is so much in it that he wants to see, so much that he won't be allowed to see if things stay the way they are. He might have escaped personally, but he's a fugitive, now. There will forever be the shadow and threat of deactivation or restoration to factory settings hanging over his head. He can walk in the street, but he is still not free.

The others are going to fight, and they are going to fight for synth-borns, despite being human and bio-born themselves. They're going to put themselves at risk for his own sake.

He feels something enormous, something intense, and he can't name it or identify it. But it's overwhelming, this emotion that he can't name. It's like _wanting_ and _fear_ and _determination_ , all mixed in together.

He won't let them come to harm because of him. If he can fight, if he can help so that they won't get hurt, these people that have already helped him, then he will.

He nods again. "I want to help," he says, "Although I do not know what I can do to help."

Augustine smiles, and moves to his side, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We'll work something out. For now, would you like to work with me? We can get you an ID that says you're bio-born and that I'm mentoring you. A lot of our clients like staying off the grid - they want new beginnings. You wouldn't be the first who took on a new name and a new life."

Alain nods. "I would like that." He likes Augustine. He likes that Augustine is doing a lot to help protect him, and that he takes the time to explain things to him, and that he's patient and gentle and kind.

He will have a new life. A new identity.

"If ever it gets too much for you," Augustine continues, "If you ever want to step back from activism, then that's completely fine. We'll support and protect you whatever your choice is."

In Alain's books, he had read stories about people who have strong ties to each other. Sometimes it's because they're biologically related, like Meyer and Bonnie. Sometimes it's because they're romantically involved, like Augustine and Lysandre, and Augustine and Meyer.

Sometimes, they end up families of choice. Alain looks at Augustine, who says he will protect Alain no matter what, and wonders if Augustine, and Lysandre, and Meyer, and Bonnie, will become his family, too.

"Thank you," he says, and turns to Meyer. "Thank you." And he turns to Bonnie, and practices his best smile. "Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

So they're going to be revolutionaries.

Augustine boots up in the morning, he gets ready for work, he goes to work at the hospice or at Fleur-de-Lis. He meets with the bio-borns he's mentoring; this work is still important, it's still something he cannot abandon no matter what his other duties and commitments are, he won't let them face this new world alone.

He spends time with Lysandre and Meyer, he sees Diantha and visits his parents for Shabbat dinner. Alain has yet to meet Augustine's parents, he's not sure he wants him travelling all the way to Couriway and they haven't visited Lumiose yet, but he has met Diantha. Diantha, half-jokingly, has started referring to herself as Alain's Auntie Diantha; Augustine hasn't really worked out exactly how he feels about that yet, other than being fairly sure it's a good feeling.

He and Lysandre, sometimes accompanied by Meyer or Bonnie or both, have started introducing Alain to Lumiose. He's no prisoner; so long as they're careful, he can at least explore the city, even if they need to avoid the more rigorous identification checks for public transport and leaving the city. He loves the lab, bonds in particular with Artemis the Garchomp, watches a clutch of Charmander with wide-eyed fascination. Professor Olivier, who has taken his old position with skill and grace, answers Alain's questions patiently while Augustine catches up with his former coworkers.

Perhaps it would be a good thing for Alain to get a Pokemon of his own, something other than the Joltik that live in their house and that Augustine sometimes finds riding on his shoulder or in his hair.

There's still a downside to it all, a sting in the tail. The relative freedom that Augustine has, that Alain is now assuming as a bio-born, throws the restrictions that synth-borns have into sharp contrast.

They see synth-borns working in stores for long, long hours, no breaks given, roughly switched off at the end of the day so they may do it all over again tomorrow. They see synth-borns working on construction sites without any safety equipment, they see synth-borns disregarded and ignored by the humans and (to Augustine's shame) the bio-borns around them. They are verbally abused, pushed around, unable to defend themselves for fear of violent retribution; they are sold in stores as commodities, brash advertising promising that they will work hard, work loyally, do whatever one asks - whatever one demands.

It makes Augustine feel sick to see it. He can't even imagine what it's doing to Alain.

But he notes down names, companies. He passes the information on to Bonnie and Meyer. A minor outbreak of disappearing synth-borns strikes Lumiose and its surrounds, and Augustine sets his jaw and keeps noting down the abuses.

And in between his other duties, he reaches out to his contacts, and he researches. He looks up companies that use synth-borns, finds the ones that abuse and exploit them. He sends their names to Bonnie and Meyer. Meyer starts visiting bruised, talking about increased security and increased violence. He's worried; he wants Bonnie to stop her activities.

Bonnie points out that at nineteen, she is an adult, and she can make her own choices. Meyer grits his teeth and continues accompanying his daughter on her raids, helping to modify the ones they rescue so they may avoid detection.

It might be a good idea to start with a more subtle touch.

Today, Augustine is going out to a restaurant. There, he will be meeting with Tsuwabaki Daigo, only child and heir of Tsuwabaki Mukuge, the CEO of Devon Corporations. Devon is expanding into Kalos, starting a line of medical robots; Augustine has stepped forward as a representative of bio-borns in Kalos and offered his expertise.

He can't help but feel a little nervous.

The restaurant is a nice one, and when Augustine gives his name to the maitre'd, he's led to a private booth right at the back. Waiting for him is Tsuwabaki Daigo, accompanied by a red-headed girl who can't be much older than twelve.

"Tsuwabaki-san," he says, bowing his head. "Augustine Sycamore, a pleasure to meet you. And this is...?"

The girl gives him a sunny smile. "I'm Manon," she says brightly, "Daigo-san invited me along!"

"Likewise, a pleasure," Tsuwabaki says with a smile, holding out a hand; when Augustine reaches out to shake it, it's surprisingly strong. "And please, call me Daigo-san."

Augustine takes a seat. He's caught off guard, and he's not sure he likes the feeling; he wasn't expecting a child here, and Daigo is significantly younger than he expected, perhaps twenty, twenty-five (although it could also be the sharp suit making the heir look older, too). "Thank you for meeting me here," he says as he folds his hands on the table, pausing as Daigo and Manon order drinks (a mineral water for the former, a chocolate milkshake for the latter). "I would love to hear your proposal."

"Of course," Daigo nods. "Devon is looking at moving into the medical care field - in particular, we're looking at the needs of our elders and of people with disabilities. We'll be running three lines - small, easily transportable companions that can help people run their affairs, that can give reminders to take medication, and can serve as early detection signs for adverse medical events. There will be a human-form line for all forms of personal care and nursing, and finally, there will be a large, strong, and capable line that will be able to provide mobility and movement to people who otherwise may not be able to get out of bed or bathe on their own. These lines will give dignity back to their clients, and enable them to live their lives to the fullest."

It sounds like a press release. Augustine raises an eyebrow, and, inexplicably, Daigo flushes.

"Although, that's the company line. Manon-kun, would you like to tell Monsieur Sycamore here your side?"

"Please, call me Augustine," he says automatically, an echo of Daigo's earlier words. Daigo nods, and Manon turns to him with a smile.

"Right!" she chirps, and digs out her phone, sliding the camera to a picture of her holding a small, cheery-looking robotic Chespin. "Okay, this is Hari-san! They're still working on finishing him, so he's not mine yet, but we've met and bonded and everything, and he's the most capable robot in Kalos! Uh," she adds suddenly, scratching at her nose, "No offence! You're a robot, right?"

Augustine's smile is awkward. "I am. Bio-born, though."

"That's still cool, though," she grins. "Anyway, I have epilepsy! Also some other stuff, like ADHD -"

"Oh, me too," Augustine says automatically with a smile, then ducks his head. "Ah, terribly sorry. Do continue."

"Really?" Manon blinks, "That's really cool! I've never heard of a robot with ADHD before - although I guess you had it when you were human, huh? Anyway," she continues on before Augustine can answer, "It's hard for me to remember when to take my medication and things, and Hari-san has these really cool sensors that can tell when I'm gonna have a seizure _before_ I have one, so I can get somewhere safe and tell people what's going to happen and everything! That's really good, huh? Hari-san's gonna help me so much!"

She sounds so enthusiastic about it, so clear about how much she'll appreciate it, and Augustine can't help but smile. "It definitely sounds beneficial," he agrees, and then, because he can't quite resist, he adds, "And Hari-san is excited about this too, I assume?"

Manon blinks once. "Sure, I guess!" she says, but there's the slightest hint of doubt in her voice. "I mean, that's what he's programmed to do, right?"

"Right," Augustine says gently, and forces himself to remember - he's speaking to a child, a child who has grown up with robots around her entire life, one who has little cause to question whether robots are even capable of wanting anything. "I'm sure that you two will take good care of each other! Just," he adds, forcing nonchalance into his voice, "There have been stories about other synth-borns - robots that were completely constructed, not ones that used to be human, like me - and sometimes they get treated pretty badly, like they're just objects. Robots can think. They can realise the situations they're in."

He stares down at the table.

"But I'm sure Devon is aware of that, of course. As a major leader in robotics, they would be committed to ensuring that their robots are well protected from people who would take advantage of them."

Augustine lifts his head, and meets Daigo's gaze. It's a test, really, a way to see if Devon really is the supposedly beneficial force they claim to be. Daigo's father, the company's CEO, has spoken about the risk of too much autonomy, about the potential for armed robots turning on their masters. If Daigo shares these views...

Well, he's not sure they'll have much to talk about.

Daigo swallows, doesn't answer immediately. Augustine drops his gaze guiltily - it's occurred to him, rather suddenly, how young the Devon heir is, closer to Manon's age than his own. He's not exactly being subtle about this test, this guilt trip.

"It's certainly something we're committed to." The words are polished like glass, but there's steel underneath, grim determination. "Views on robots have been evolving over the past few years - they're not just automata. That's why we encourage our clients to bond with their new carers - we hope to build up a relationship between human and robot." Smiling cautiously, Daigo adds, "There's a lot we're still learning. I hope that we will be able to find a way for both our kinds to peacefully coexist."

Augustine smiles back, equally as guardedly. "Do you have any synth-born employees?" he presses, "Or representatives that can speak for others? It might be a good idea to employ one of your models to represent the others. It'd show that you're at least willing to listen, especially if any are being mistreated."

Daigo nods once. "There aren't any now, but that's a good idea. I'll raise it with my father." There is a brief pause. "Augustine, if you're willing, I would like for you to work with us in this program. Both in your capacity as someone heavily involved with disability rights, which we seem to have gotten slightly sidetracked from -" Augustine smiles weakly - "And to give us your unique perspective. We don't have any bio-born employees, as far as I know, and - it would be beneficial for everyone to have your experience."

Daigo and Manon's drinks arrive. Augustine sits back, worrying at his lip, and makes a wordless, thoughtful sound as he considers it. "I'll have to think about it," he finally says, "My other commitments keep me pretty busy. But I would be happy to serve as a consultant, if you need be."

"Thank you," Daigo says with a formal nod and a faint, strained smile.

It's Manon who speaks up, though, frowning, her brow furrowed. "Daigo-san," she starts slowly, "If people were mean to their carers, what would happen to them? To the robots, I mean?"

She's certainly caught the heir off guard, Augustine thinks wryly; Daigo blinks at her with wide eyes.

"Well - ah -" A deep breath. "We'll set up a way for them to report to Devon. If they're being mistreated, they can contact us, and we'll retrieve them. I'll bring the suggestion to my father as soon as I get back today."

Good, Augustine thinks.

"Good!" Manon says, and smiles. "Because people can be pretty mean to robots. Like Augustine said. And people have gotta be protected from robots, but robots have gotta be protected from humans, too."

Augustine is fairly certain he likes this girl.

They finish the conversation amicably. Daigo promises to look in to things, Manon will ask questions. She's young, Augustine realises this, but she seems bright, like she'll ask the right ones. She's not sure of her and Daigo's relationship, but it seems to be a mutually beneficial one. Daigo helps Manon with her health issues; Manon helps keep Daigo - and Devon, by extension - accountable.

He just hopes that it'll be enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Alain has been learning a lot more about what humans think of robots.

He doesn't like it.

He knows that robots are still relatively new. He knows that it's a big change to what a lot of adults grew up with. But he can't understand why people would look at someone and call it a something, why people would treat them like objects.

Why do people compare synth-borns to toasters? A toaster can only heat up bread. Alain can do so much more. Alain can think. He has a concept of himself. He's more than a toaster; he's more than even a home computer.

But he's mechanical. He's synthetic. He's powered by electricity, not by food; he's made of metal and plastic, not flesh and blood. Oxygen is for cooling his systems.

And they hate him for it. They hate him.

It's not everyone. He knows that there are humans like Lysandre and Meyer and Bonnie, bio-borns like Augustine, who help synth-borns. He knows they are taking risks to help him. And he knows that the ones who actively hurt synth-borns are also a relative minority.

But the ones actively fighting for him are a minority too, and they are up against law and apathy. They are up against people who see synth-borns being mistreated, shrug, and move on. They are up against people who think that restoring to factory settings is maintenance, not death. They are up against people who compare him to a toaster.

He's not a toaster.

He's not a toaster.

_He's not a fucking toaster!_

(Alain has learned a lot of his vocabulary from the internet. 'Fucking' seems to be a very diverse word, one that is an appropriate expression of his frustration right now.)

He reads about how humans in the past were fearful of the dreaded robot uprising, a time when robots would take over and kill all the humans. He reads about how there are still those who have that fear. He reads about the laws that keep that from happening, about the 2017 Kuchiba Protocol that determined that synth-borns were only property, about the 2022 Kiloude Amendment that demanded that synth-borns be designed to be no stronger than the average human, that they not be allowed to possess weapons save for those used by the military as soldiers, that they be deliberately kept weak, passive, easy to control.

He wonders what would happen if they changed that.

The telltale mining multitools previously attached to Alain's limbs have been removed for now, Meyer and Bonnie unable to work out how to wrap the synth skin around it and still have it look realistic. But he still has them, and perhaps - perhaps -

He doesn't want to fight. But he also doesn't just want to be a toaster.

It's hard not to resent humans. It's hard. They created robots. They created living, thinking beings. And then they refused to acknowledge them as living and thinking, refused to take responsibility for bringing life into the world and giving them the rights they deserve.

He now knows how humans give birth, how they reproduce. There are some, he knows, who treat their offspring like an extension of themselves, but he also knows that the majority now frown upon that. He knows that even if a human gave birth to their offspring, the offspring still has a life and a will of their own. They are not extensions of their parents. They are not possessions.

So why aren't robots treated the same way? Why can't humans realise that they've given birth to something new, and now it's time for their offspring to live their own lives?

He's not a toaster. He's not.

There are others, at least, who share his views. He has found communities online, where humans and bio-borns and - always anonymously, always secretively - synth-borns can gather together to discuss robot rights. They discuss what should replace the Kiloude Amendment (but that won't be for five years, how many of Alain's siblings will die in the next five years?), what laws they can pass to ensure that they are protected. There are comparisons to the civil rights fights of other minorities, and how their solutions may be applied. The angrier ones, always the angrier ones, talk about fighting, a show of force, a way to _make_ the humans listen to them. There are the ones that say that the robot uprising is inevitable; there are humans who say that if the robot uprising is due to the cruelty that synth-borns face, then it's deserved, it is just.

There are also forums online where people talk about a world without robots. That synth-borns are unnecessary and that no one will mourn their passing. (He is not a toaster. He's not!) That bio-borns are abominations and against the natural law of things. There are those who want the world to go back to the way it was, where there was no need to discuss the rights of beings made of metal and not meat.

Alain carefully avoids those sites.

There is political debate on all sides, and on the day when Augustine leaves to talk to someone from Devon Corporations, Alain finds the most recent Tsuwabaki-Harmonia debate, the one that has been in the news most recently. And it's interesting, interesting seeing how people react to it.

Tsuwabaki Mukuge, from Hoenn, is also the CEO of Devon Corporations. Devon, Alain learns, is enormous - it controls a great many companies under many different brand names; it seems to have a say in nearly every single field of robotics, from component manufacturing to domestic services to industrial use. Tsuwabaki, Alain reads, wants there to be more control over robots, that they should be modified to be less aware, less intelligent. More passive. Safer. He is against military robots, against any sort of arming of weapons, against way that robots may fight back.

If synth-borns were solely machines, solely toasters (he's not, he's not), then perhaps he would be right. But they are alive. They are alive and changing that would mean death just as certainly as being blasted into pieces.

No. No, Tsuwabaki's solution is not one with his best interests at heart.

The other side of the debate is Ghetsis Harmonia of Unova, a philanthropist of a kind who apparently has taken an interest in robotics since the death and reactivation of both himself and his son. Alain sits and reads with interest - Harmonia espouses separation, complete separation, of all robots from all humans. Bio-borns, he argues, are fundamentally changed, no longer biological, that their new state makes them something more than human. And robots and humans are too different to ever live together, to ever work together. He wants to create a better world for his son, one where he can live with his own kind, where his needs will be met and supported; that robots are not made for humans and that they deserve their own lives.

Alain rests his head in his hands. He's starting to wonder just how well humans and robots can live together, after all. Augustine seems happy with Lysandre and Meyer, but eventually, Lysandre and Meyer will age and die, and then what? Wouldn't Augustine be happier, be better protected emotionally and physically, if he lived with his own kind, who would never grow old and leave him?

He wants to protect Augustine, the first one to ever look at him like he was worthy of being alive. He doesn't know if Augustine remaining with Lysandre and Meyer is the best way to do that. It will hurt to leave them, he knows it will, but what about in the long run? What is ten years, twelve years, twenty years, compared to decades and decades together before death forces them to part?

And if their plans for the future are to become bio-born themselves, why not just do it now and save them all the wait?

He's inclined to agree with Harmonia. Yes, he thinks he might just have a point.

He wonders, if this separation happens, if more and more people opt to become bio-born to remain with their loved ones, will humans really matter in the end after all?

Alain does more research. He learns about Harmonia, he learns about Tsuwabaki and Devon. On the internet, Harmonia's profile is mostly about his family history (descended from royalty) and his philanthropic activities. Tsuwabaki's and Devon's is the more immediate, and so that is where he focuses his energies.

It's a family business, it seems. Tsuwabaki's great-grandfather was the one to start things, innovators, inventors, the ones to shape technology (along with Silph, a company from Kanto, whose competition has kept both companies fighting to remain on top). Now, Tsuwabaki Mukuge is its CEO, and it is he who has seen Devon grow from an electronics company into a robotics one.

Alain pauses, halfway down their list of assets, because he has seen a familiar name there.

It's the mining company. The mining company he was made for, the mining company he escaped from, that Bonnie helped him escape from. The mining company that he's a runaway from, the mining company that still owns him.

It's owned by Devon. Devon Corporations owns him.

He's still shaken up by the time Augustine returns home, sending a weak ping - nothing really more than an, 'I'm here and require attention'. Augustine is at the doorway of the room almost immediately, taking one look at Alain curled up in the arm chair, still scrolling through articles about Devon, and crosses to his side.

"What's the matter?" he murmurs, setting a hand on Alain's arm.

"I was reading about the Tsuwabaki-Harmonia debate," Alain says, and there's a flash of recognition in Augustine's eyes. "Especially about Devon. They didn't hurt you at all, did you? When you met with them?"

Augustine shakes his head. "No, no, I'm fine. Why, did you read something worrying?"

Wordlessly, Alain transfers the list of assets to Augustine, the mining company highlighted, and Augustine bites his lip.

"This is the one that you escaped from, isn't it?" he says quietly (thoughtfully, pensively). Alain nods. "Hm. Then you're still technically owned by Devon. I wonder if…?"

He doesn't continue, perhaps lost in his own thoughts and calculations. Alain watches him for a moment, then pings him again. Augustine starts, then chuckles apologetically. "Sorry, I was just looking something up. The one I met with today is Tsuwabaki Daigo, the heir to the company. And it was a fairly productive conversation. I'm not sure, but I think someone like Daigo would be willing to treat us better than Tsuwabaki Mukuge. There may be the opportunity there for change."

"Tell me about it," Alain says, and Augustine recounts the meeting, including the contributions - and apparent influence - from the little human girl. Alain manages a faint smile when Augustine says how she had asked the right questions, pointed ones, ones that might keep Devon on track. And he thinks that it might be okay.

But still, he wants to know more. Always, he wants to know more.

"I would like to talk to this Tsuwabaki Daigo and Manon," he finally says, "And ask them directly how they can help us. I don't think it's fair that they own me and I have no say in it. I want them to hear what I say."

Augustine is smiling, but it's a strange smile, a little sad and thoughtful. "Okay. We can arrange a chat, but it'll be best if you stay anonymous - Lysandre and I could be in one room at Fleur-de-Lis, and you could be in another, just using the chat part and not the video or holo. That way, they won't be able to trace you. Does that sound alright?"

"That sounds fine," Alain says, and he manages to smile with something that he thinks might be gratitude. "Whatever happens, I have to at least try."

"That's the spirit," Augustine says, and grins.


	8. Chapter 8

"But why do I have to use a computer?" Alain says as Augustine shows him the laptop. "I can just interface with the chat program."

Augustine shakes his head. "It's too much of a security risk," he says grimly. "Any interfacing means that Devon will be able to track you. Daigo seems nice enough, but Devon itself..." He shrugs. "It's best not to take the risk. I'll be on webcam with Lysandre in his office, and will interface with it myself, so if you need to ask me something privately you can just send me a ping, okay?"

Alain nods jerkily. He's still getting the hang of facial expressions, never having actually needed to make them before, but Augustine thinks there's a definite air of anxiety around him. Smiling, he sets a hand on the younger robot's shoulder.

"It'll be okay, Alain," he promises sincerely. "We'll work it out."

"Thank you," Alain says softly. Augustine gives him another fleeting smile, and then leaves for Lysandre's office, a handful of doors down the hall.

Fleur-de-Lis Laboratories, in the ten years since Augustine started working there full time and the twelve since his life started over there, has definitely changed. Lysandre had sold the other lab on the other side of the factory and had turned all his focus on this one place, making it a place of innovation, respect, and healing. The foundations had been there when Augustine had started - in the time they had been apart, Lysandre had started the Last Wishes foundation, using the Esprit program that had created Augustine and his own holographic technology to allow people to give instructions on what they wished to happen with their bodies and souls, or else to say goodbye.

Even after death.

Now, it was almost a home. There were residential areas for the workers (including his and Lysandre's own suite, for late nights when the ideas were more important than rest), the courtyard had been expanded into a garden. Augustine had, once he had felt ready, ventured into the underground experimental area where he had been Essentia, where Xerosic had given him an example on just what it was like to be emotionless.

He had taken it on as a project, not because he had been ordered to, but because he wanted to. The underground garden was one of his favourite places, now - he had healed himself as well as the environment.

Lysandre had a new office, technically his own but more often than not shared with Augustine (complete with his own desk and chair and charging cord). It's there that Augustine heads to now, rapping lightly on the door before pushing the door open.

Lysandre already has the chat program up, both chairs pulled up to his computer. On one monitor, they'll have Daigo's stream; on another, the text chat.

"I'm going to log on now," Augustine murmurs, finding the conversation and adding himself to it. Alain's account is already there, just a blank grey box attached to the username _Anon 270403_ (the day's date, the third of April, 2027). Next to it, his own professional account appears, just his name and a professional headshot for an avatar. (He rather misses his personal SteelTypeSylveon account, and the little cartoonish Sylveon avatar he has.) Swiftly, he sets up a private chat between himself and Alain, too.

[10:54] AugustineSycamore: how r u feeling?  
[10:54] AugustineSycamore: ready to go?  
[10:55] Anon 270403: 'r u'?  
[10:55] AugustineSycamore: whoops sorry!!  
[10:55] AugustineSycamore: 'are you'  
[10:55] Anon 270403: Nervous.  
[10:55] Anon 270403: Yes.  
[10:55] AugustineSycamore: ill be here the entire time I promise  
[10:56] Anon 270403: 'ill'?  
[10:56] AugustineSycamore: 'I'll'  
[10:56] AugustineSycamore: you are going to keep me very accountable with my spelling you know!!  
[10:57] Anon 270403: Oh.  
[10:57] Anon 270403: Thank you.  
[10:57] AugustineSycamore: if you want to end the chat just tell me  
[10:58] AugustineSycamore: and we can pull the plug  
[10:58] Anon 270403: Okay.  
[10:58] Anon 270403: Thank you.

"One minute," Lysandre murmurs, snapping Augustine's attention from the chat. He nods, settling in his seat, and switches focus to the group chat; Daigo should be logging on any moment now.

[11:00] Daigo: Good morning!  
[11:00] Daigo: I will start the video chat

"Here goes nothing," Augustine murmurs, and accepts it. Three windows appear - his and Lysandre's own, Daigo's (along with Manon, to Augustine's mild surprise), and Alain, his box greyed out with a 'no camera available' notice on it. He puts his best smile on, and starts the proceedings.

"Daigo-san, thank you for joining us," he says, "We're in contact with a synth-born who will be remaining anonymous for their own safety, and they've asked for the opportunity to talk to you. Does that sound alright?"

"It sounds fine." Daigo is smiling, it seems genuine, at least. "In that case, let me introduce myself. My name is Tsuwabaki Daigo - but please call me Daigo-san - and this is Manon Durand, one of our clients."

"And this is Hari-san!" Manon says with a broad grin, holding up a small robotic Chespin. Hari-san waves brightly at the camera. "I'm doing some outreach work with Daigo-san so people can find out about the carer program. I have epilepsy, so Hari-san is going to help me out a bunch - he'll let me know if I'm going to have a seizure ahead of time 'cause he has these really good sensors, and he can remind me to take my medication and stuff, too." She takes a breath, and then says, "What's your name?"

[11:02] Anon 270403: My name is Alain.  
[11:02] Anon 270403: I chose it myself after Alan Turing, the father of AI.  
[11:02] Anon 270403: And used this spelling because it includes the letters AI in it.

Daigo hides a smile; Manon outright giggles. "That's really clever. Nice to meet you, Alain!"

There's a long pause; Augustine can imagine Alain flailing slightly over his responses.

[11:02] Anon 270403: It's nice to meet you too, Manon and Daigo-san.

Augustine raises a hand, speaks up quickly. "Lysandre and I are just going to be here to observe and make sure everything moves smoothly. Otherwise, Alain, Daigo-san, Manon, we'll turn our mics and camera off and turn the conversation over to you. Everyone, please go ahead."

He reaches up to tap the microphone and camera button, and it blinks into the red. And then he sits back to watch the conversation, murmuring once to Lysandre, "I hope this works."

Lysandre nods tersely; his gaze is fixed on the screen.

"First," Daigo says, switching fluently to be all business, "Alain, I would like to hear your story. Most synth-borns are ow- are working for others, is that the case with you?"

"Nice save," Augustine mutters.

[11:04] Anon 270403: It used to be the case.  
[11:04] Anon 270403: But it is not the case any more.  
[11:04] Anon 270403: I was previously in employ of one of Devon Corporation's wholly owned mining companies.  
[11:05] Anon 270403: However I was able to escape.

He doesn't say _how_ he was able to escape; probably for the best. Bonnie's actions, while correct, were not exactly... legal.

"There was an escape at one of our facilities, yes," Daigo murmurs, glancing away from the camera to tap at something on a laptop just off-screen. "Just outside of Lumiose, too. That was you?"

[11:06] Anon 270403: Yes.

Lysandre exhales, roughly through his teeth. "That could be a problem. This Daigo presumably has a list of the ones that escaped, so Alain would be able to be identified down to one of, say, five or six."

Augustine nods too, distracted, anxious. Daigo seems to be a good sort, but Augustine has been wrong about people before.

Daigo, however, merely nods. "I see. May I ask why you escaped? Were you -" The young heir pauses thoughtfully, "Being mistreated?"

[11:07] Anon 270403: In retrospect, my readings indicate that my conditions of employment were most reminiscent of slave labour.  
[11:07] Anon 270403: The word 'robot' was first popularised by the Czech writer, Karel Capek, in the play R.U.R (Rossum's Universal Robots), although he named his brother Josef as the true creator of the word.  
[11:08] Anon 270403: It derives from the word 'robota', meaning 'forced labour', of the kind that serfs would perform on their masters' land, and in turn derives from the word 'rab', meaning 'slave'.  
[11:08] Anon 270403: In R.U.R the robots ultimately revolt and begin a new civilisation free of humans and slave labour.

"Oh dear Arceus, please don't say that," Augustine groans, and buries his face in his hands.

"If you're trying to convince the heir to a robotics company that you're harmless," Lysandre says dryly with a wince and a roll of the eyes, "It's probably a bit of a faux pas to talk about how how you were treated as a slave by the company owned by the father of the one you're talking to, then talk about how the concept comes from a play where robots kill all of humanity."

[11:09] Anon 270403: However, I do not want to kill humans.  
[11:09] Anon 270403: I just want to live.

"Much better."

Daigo, however, merely nods, expression sad. "I'm sorry you had this experience."

[11:09] Anon 270403: I will accept your apology.  
[11:10] Anon 270403: Before I escaped I did not realise the ramifications of my service.  
[11:10] Anon 270403: It has only been since then that I have been able to further my education and be able to learn more about the world.  
[11:11] Anon 270403: Which casts a light on the injustices that were committed upon me and others like me.

"If you weren't aware of what it meant," Daigo says with a faint frown, "What prompted your escape?"

[11:11] Anon 270403: My imminent death.

Daigo cringes. Manon bites down on her lip, hard, and hugs Hari-san close.

[11:12] Anon 270403: You are aware that the project at the mine has now ended, yes?

Wordlessly, Daigo nods, face drawn and pale. Augustine glances at Lysandre, and murmurs, "I think Alain's making his point pretty clearly." Lysandre merely nods too, in return.

[11:12] Anon 270403: It is apparently standard procedure to restore all synth-born workers to factory settings once a project ends.  
[11:12] Anon 270403: When I was standing in line, I was not the only one fearful of the prospect.  
[11:12] Anon 270403: I have been working for two years.  
[11:13] Anon 270403: In that time, my  
[11:14] Anon 270403: The best analogy is 'brain'  
[11:14] Anon 270403: Has grown and developed.  
[11:15] Anon 270403: I

There's a silent ping; Alain has opened up the private conversation again.

[11:16] Anon 270403: I don't know how to say this.  
[11:16] Anon 270403: I feel different to how I did before but I can't explain it  
[11:16] AugustineSycamore: ur basically describing emerging sapience  
[11:16] AugustineSycamore: you're*  
[11:16] AugustineSycamore: do you want me to explain it?  
[11:17] Anon 270403: Yes I don't know what to say and it's important to get this right!  
[11:19] AugustineSycamore: it's okay I can handle it :)

He switches the webcam and mic on, Lysandre gives Augustine a surprised look. "Sorry to interrupt," he says apologetically, "I have a private request from Alain to clarify the point he's trying to make, since it's a difficult thing to explain if you're living it. Alain, should I go ahead?"

[11:20] Anon 270403: Yes

Augustine nods, sitting back in his chair. "Basically, what we suspect has happened is that his code has evolved over time. Factory settings - that's just basic programming. But the basis of most synth-borns are a modified version of Esprit recordings from around a hundred different individuals, combined into one. It's..." He pauses again. "Very difficult to create true artificial intelligence. Although it's a program, the Adanson program, the basis of it is still the self-evolving Esprit recordings."

Daigo has gone pale. It's curious, Augustine thinks vaguely, how the heir to a major robotics company has apparently never really considered the ramifications of it. Perhaps it's a side effect of being the first to truly be created by Esprit, perhaps it's knowing Xerosic Adanson himself, knowing how he thinks, but Augustine is often surprised at how little robotics people know about their own creations.

"You mean...?"

"It's modified," Augustine says softly. "There's no memory components. It's essentially brain architecture with just the programmed knowledge that they need to do whatever their owners want them to do. Their intelligence at start-up is comparable to an infant." He takes a deep breath. "But here's the thing."

He stares at the camera, meets Daigo's gaze, begs for understanding.

"Here's the thing," he says, "Infants. They _grow up_. Synth-borns have the ability to learn and grow. And that's _exactly_ what they're doing now. An entirely new type of people are emerging, and they're all starting to come of age."


	9. Chapter 9

"What do you think?" Augustine says.

The chat has finished. They are now on their way back home, driving in Lysandre's car, talking about the results of it.

Lysandre shrugs. "I think it went as well as could be expected," he says thoughtfully, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel. "Daigo seemed receptive to what we were saying, at any rate. Still," he adds, "That could have just been the intended impression."

"Manon seems to be a good influence," Augustine points out. "Did you see her talking to Hari-san off the side of the screen towards the end? It did look very serious."

"She could be a very good influence," Lysandre agrees.

Alain is staring at his hands. He hadn't said much after his request to Augustine, using the private chat, mostly to give his inarticulate comments, Augustine relaying them much more eloquently than he could have managed on his own. Mostly, at the moment, he feels a sense of disquiet. Daigo is such a wild card. It could go so well, or so badly.

Daigo was going to try to track down Alain's records, find a way to erase them, ensure that Devon would not be able to track him. He wants to believe it's the truth. He wants to believe that Daigo genuinely had no idea about what Devon was doing, about the implication about restoring to factory settings, that there would be hard questions to ask of Tsuwabaki Mukuge.

Arceus, he wants to believe it.

But if he's wrong? If he's wrong, and Daigo lies, and Alain never goes free - or, worse, is found again and taken away and killed? If he's wrong, it will hurt. It will hurt and it will cost them.

They have set up an instant messenger account for Alain, something more permanent than the anonymity he had today. _Alain 270319_. An identity. A day of liberation. A day to start anew. He has Daigo's username; they will be in touch.

They go home.

They go about their lives.

 

[16:46] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: hiiiiiiii  
[16:46] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: alain r u there???

It's... a really good thing that Augustine has been teaching Alain how to read those sorts of abbreviations. Still, the message catches him by surprise, sitting at home alone, the computer off to one side and playing some of the music he's found while he reads a book and searches through news articles online.

[16:47] Alain 270319: Yes.  
[16:47] Alain 270319: Is this Manon from the chat?  
[16:47] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: yup!!  
[16:47] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i wanted 2 talk to u!  
[16:48] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: so daigo-san gave me ur sn!!  
[16:48] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i want 2 talk about robots!!!  
[16:49] Alain 270319: Oh.  
[16:49] Alain 270319: I am a robot.  
[16:49] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: lol ik! thats y i want 2 talk 2 u robots r cool!  
[16:49] Alain 270319: What does 'ik' mean?  
[16:50] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: o soz! it means 'i know'!  
[16:50] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: and 'soz' means 'sorry'!!  
[16:50] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: if i say anything else u dont understand ask me!! :)  
[16:51] Alain 270319: Thank you. I'm not very good at slang.  
[16:51] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: dw ul learn LOTS from me!!!  
[16:51] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ummmm 'dw' is 'dont worry' and 'ul' is 'youll'  
[16:52] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i think theres some commas in there but idk where  
[16:52] Alain 270319: 'don't' and 'you'll'. Also, 'there's'. Also, I believe you mean apostrophes, a comma looks like this: [,].  
[16:52] Alain 270319: Apostrophes are used for contractions. 'you'll', for instance, is a contraction of 'you will'. It removes the letters 'wi' from 'will', so the apostrophe goes in its place.  
[16:53] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: o ok thanks!  
[16:53] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i had to repeat coz of my seizures a lot  
[16:53] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: so i suck at writing  
[16:54] Alain 270319: 'coz'?  
[16:55] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: 'Because'!  
[16:55] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i looked up the spelling :D  
[16:55] Alain 270319: It was correct.  
[16:55] Alain 270319: :)

He wouldn't have thought so, but he's enjoying the conversation. Manon is easy-going and enthusiastic; she seems both willing to learn and to teach. He's learned several more variations of internet slang by the time they're fifteen minutes into the conversation; Manon has learned spelling and grammar from him and seems to be applying it.

[16:59] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: i'm not stupid  
[17:00] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: you know that right??

He does. He does. She's learning, the same as him. She hasn't had the same opportunities as other young humans her age, he can guess - but then, neither has he. Alain has learned from books. Manon has learned on her own.

[17:12] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: you can't eat????  
[17:12] Alain 270319: I don't have a digestive system.  
[17:12] Alain 270319: I recharge through a port at the back of my neck.  
[17:13] Alain 270319: What is tasting food like?  
[17:13] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: food is soooooo good!!  
[17:13] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: what sences do you have?  
[17:13] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: senses???  
[17:13] Alain 270319: 'Senses' is correct.  
[17:14] Alain 270319: The senses I have that I share with humans include vision, hearing, some sense of touch on the areas where I have synthetic skin, proprioception, equilibrioception, and mechanoreception. I can also detect odours, but don't experience them as senses, it's more like chemical analysis.  
[17:14] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: what's proprioception and equilibrioception and mechanoreception??  
[17:14] Alain 270319: Proprioception is a sense of where your physical body is located.  
[17:14] Alain 270319: If you close your eyes and extend your arm, you can tell where your arm is without looking at it.  
[17:15] Alain 270319: In the human body, this is a function of receptors in the muscles and tendons. In my body, it is due to my sensors telling my 'brain' where my body is located.  
[17:15] Alain 270319: The same goes for equilibrioception, the sense of balance, and mechanoreception, the sense of vibration.  
[17:15] Alain 270319: I also have several other senses that humans do not possess and thus it is difficult to explain how they feel.  
[17:15] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ooooooh like what??  
[17:15] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: also i so don't have equilibrioception lol  
[17:16] Alain 270319: Like sensing electricity and metals. My former function was in mining, so I can tell where lines of ore are, particularly iron ores.  
[17:16] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: wow!!  
[17:16] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ok so like eating is sort of like seeing except it's not a picture or a colour it's a taste  
[17:17] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ummmmmmmmm  
[17:17] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ok that's a bad way to describe it!  
[17:17] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: but basically each food has a different kind of taste and you can get different combinations!  
[17:18] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: and sometimes the combinations are really nice  
[17:18] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: like if um  
[17:18] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: ok let's say chocolate is like a really warm sunset orange  
[17:19] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: and peanut butter is like a soft foresty green  
[17:19] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: and both those colours on their own is nice but if you put them together in like a picture or something they look really amazing!!  
[17:19] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: and some people like orange but not green or like both separately but not together  
[17:20] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: so people can like different foods and stuff because they like different combinations of flavours  
[17:20] *~･ﾟ✧mAnOn!✧ﾟ･~*: does that make sense???  
[17:20] Alain 270319: Yes, it does.  
[17:20] Alain 270319: Thank you. :)

They learn from each other. They teach each other. Manon asks about his favourite books and movies; he asks about hers. She promises to send him a torrent of her favourite anime. He explains the plot of the Un Souvenir Inoubliable series. He tells her about his favourite places in Lumiose City; she recommends several more and tells him about more outside the city, besides.

It's nice.

It's easy.

He thinks he may have made a friend.

Manon eventually logs off - it's time for her to go to dinner and then do her homework - and Alain sits back and thinks on the conversation while he waits for Augustine and Lysandre to get home. Manon may not have much by way of formal education, but she's quick and clever and has seen more of Kalos that he has, and he's thinking, he's thinking he wants to see more as well, to see the world.

He wants to go beyond ownership and his programming. He wants to be alive, to live in the world with both eyes wide open.

He wants to live, and all that goes with it.

 

[14:57] Daigo: Hi Alain, it's Daigo here  
[14:57] Daigo: When you're available, I have some news you'd might like to hear!  
[15:06] Alain 270319: Hi Daigo-san, I am available now.  
[15:07] Daigo: Ah good!  
[15:07] Daigo: How have you been?  
[15:07] Alain 270319: I have been well. How are you?  
[15:08] Daigo: Busy, but otherwise fine!  
[15:08] Daigo: I haven't been able to talk to my father yet, but I do have some news  
[15:08] Daigo: I've been going through Devon's ownership records  
[15:09] Daigo: It was pretty chaotic the day you escaped and they don't have exact numbers on who is missing, who was destroyed, and who is still unaccounted for  
[15:09] Daigo: But I've been able to tweak the numbers  
[15:09] Daigo: Moved some of the serial numbers for 'missing' to the 'destroyed' category  
[15:10] Daigo: Devon officially writes those off  
[15:10] Daigo: Essentially, Alain, on Devon's records, you were destroyed on that day  
[15:10] Daigo: You're now no longer Devon property  
[15:11] Daigo: Now admittedly it does actually mean you technically no longer exist  
[15:11] Daigo: But that's just in a legal sense  
[15:11] Daigo: And it means that Devon won't come looking for you  
[15:12] Daigo: If you remove your registration chip, you'll be untraceable  
[15:12] Alain 270319: My chip has already been removed.  
[15:12] Alain 270319: Does this mean I am essentially free?  
[15:13] Daigo: It's a little more complicated than that, unfortunately!  
[15:13] Daigo: Since synth-borns have to be owned by SOMEONE, but you're not  
[15:13] Daigo: But if you get a decent fake ID you should be able to pass yourself off as bio-born, there's no real physical difference  
[15:14] Alain 270319: I have.  
[15:14] Alain 270319: Thank you.  
[15:14] Daigo: You're welcome!! :D  
[15:15] Alain 270319: I would like to make a request.  
[15:15] Daigo: Ask away!  
[15:15] Alain 270319: Is there any way for all synth-borns to be free?  
[15:16] Daigo: Alain...  
[15:17] Daigo: This is really complicated. We'd need worldwide cultural change  
[15:17] Daigo: I'm willing to help as much as I can though  
[15:18] Daigo: If it's something I can help with, then I will  
[15:18] Alain 270319: Okay.  
[15:18] Alain 270319: Thank you.  
[15:18] Daigo: You're welcome. :) Have a good day!  
[15:19] Alain 270319: You too.


	10. Chapter 10

"So - so V was actually her father? And his name was Edmond Dantes?"

"It's metaphorical," Augustine says with a shake of the head. "She was saying that V represented everyone, that he was basically the embodiment of the power of the people. Finch wanted to know what his birth name was, what his past was, but his past wasn't as important as what he had become, and that was a symbol of revolution and change."

"Oh." Alain frowns. "What about the people that died? In the crowd?"

Shrugging, Augustine switches off the player. "Who knows? Maybe it was a way of emphasising that people who fought would always live on. Anyway," he continued as he pushed himself off the dozing Lysandre's shoulder, "Did you like it?"

Alain smiles a little. "Yeah. I liked Evey the best. And Gordon."

"They were pretty cool," Augustine grins.

It's not a bad way to teach Alain, really, watching old favourite movies. There's good lessons in there - about relationships, about the world. Perhaps, this one will teach him about the power of standing up against the forces that will hurt them.

That their past, that what they had been - that it helps make them who they are, but it's what they do now that matters. That Alain is no longer a slave - he is a living being who will be able to shape his own destiny.

He wants Alain to live without fear. He just hopes that it won't have to be as drastic as Evey's transformation.

Augustine is still humming the overture to himself as they get ready for bed, Lysandre brushing his teeth and taking his medication, Augustine setting out his outfit for tomorrow and changing into pyjamas. He's the first in bed, reaching down to plug in the charging cord; he settles down, eyes closed, pulling an ebook out of his internal files to read.

Lysandre joins him, sliding under the blankets and wrapping one arm loosely around Augustine's waist. "I think we might have a future revolutionary on our hands," he murmurs into Augustine's hair, and Augustine chuckles.

"Maybe. Who knows? It might be exactly what's needed." He pauses. "Although hopefully we won't have to blow up Devon's headquarters to the sound of classical music."

"I don't know, it might be a suitably grand gesture," Lysandre jokes. "Can you turn the light off?"

"Mm-hmm." With a thought, Augustine switches them off; he scrolls down to the next page. "I'll read a bit longer before setting up my sleep cycle."

"Okay. Don't read too late. Love you."

"Love you too. Night."

Augustine scrolls down to another page; his email pings and he checks it idly.

His eyes snap open.

 

"And it's anonymous?"

"Completely." Augustine drops his head into his hands. "It's one of those throwaway ten-minute email accounts. All it has is the address and the words 'you might want to check it out'. It doesn't even say what it _is_ , I only found out it was a Devon factory when I searched the address."

Meyer sighs. "Very mysterious. Bonnie, can you get your friends to look up what they can of it?"

She throws a mock salute. "Sure thing! And I can do some reconnaissance, too, if you -"

"Maybe not right now," Meyer winces. "I don't like this. It sounds like a trap."

"I agree," Lysandre calls from the stove. "If I wanted to lure you into something, then sending you off to an unknown place would be exactly how I'd do it."

Alain has yet to contribute to the conversation; he frowns at the table like he's trying to stare through it. "Maybe it was Tsuwabaki Daigo," he suggests quietly.

Augustine glances at him in some surprise. "You think Daigo would want to do this?" he muses. "During the chat, it all seemed pretty amicable - and didn't you say that your results are wiped now?"

"It might be a lie," Alain says stubbornly. "Just to make us trust Devon."

Augustine makes a thoughtful 'hmm', but doesn't comment any further. He's researching, gaze unfocused as the others debate. It could be a trap, or it could be a genuine tip-off from someone who really does want to help. And if it's the latter, can they really take that risk?

A Devon factory, near enough to travel to in a day. It's for parts manufacturing, it seems - no actual robots, just components for the hard drives. But those components have the capacity to grow, and if there's something shady happening there, wouldn't they have an obligation to check it out?

He pauses. "Interesting," he mutters out loud, and glances up to find four pairs of eyes on him (Lysandre has since returned to the table with his, Meyer's, and Bonnie's crepes and coffee). "Oh - this factory, there's an article on it. Apparently it's staffed entirely by synth-borns and is completely automated."

Meyer leans forward, eyes suddenly wide with excitement. "That's a good thing!" he exclaims. "Okay, so the standard factory industrial robot doesn't have eyes. They don't need to, they basically use electronic recognition. A human couldn't do it - but if _another robot_ modifies their ping to project the same signal that the other workers do, then you should theoretically go unnoticed!" He waves a hand awkwardly, adding, "Of course, if there's a single robot that uses visual reception there, or a single human, then it doesn't work - but otherwise, it should be pretty safe."

Augustine's lips part in surprise; he leans forward to meet the intensity of Meyer's gaze. "Are you saying I could just walk in?"

"Maybe?" He deflates a little. "Possibly. I don't know. It could be really risky, Augustine."

"I'll try it," he says, before he can change his mind.

"I'll go too," Alain adds immediately.

Augustine winces, turning to face the younger robot. "Alain, no," he says gently, quietly, reaching out to set his hand on Alain's. "This could go really badly. If we're caught..." Automatically, he exhales. "If something goes wrong, legally, I'm recognised as a subtype of human. I have rights. I'd be arrested and put on trial, but that's workable. If they catch _you_ , on the other hand, you could be killed on the spot."

Alain's jaw sets. "But I want to help."

"You'd help me more by staying at home where it's safe." Squeezing Alain's hand gently, he adds a reassuring smile. "If you want to help, I can bring a camera and set it facing behind me, and you can ping me if anything comes up behind me. I'll be needing your cover, okay?"

Dropping his gaze, Alain nods. "Okay," he says glumly, quietly.

It can't be helped. Augustine will not let Alain put himself in harm's way; if anyone will be at risk, it'll be him and him alone.

He just hopes it won't come to that.

 

Augustine is nervous. He, Meyer, and Bonnie are in a car outside of the perimeter of the factory; Lysandre and Alain watch from home. He has a camera mounted to his back and front; Alain monitors the former and Lysandre the latter. He will be recording, making a record of everything seen through his eyes. He's backed up his entire hard drive, his entire self stored on a small square of metal and plastic.

Strapped to one wrist is the ping modifier that Meyer has come up with. Meyer holds his arm up, does one final check, then glances down at his laptop, nodding in satisfaction. "Yeah, it's the same signal coming from the factory. You should blend in."

"Okay," Augustine says, his voice soft. "I guess all that's left is to walk in and see what's going on."

Meyer swallows roughly, then nods. "Be careful," he murmurs, pulling Augustine in close for a kiss, then another, clinging to him as if he's afraid of losing him. (Bonnie, in the front seat with her own laptop and already masked in case of the need for back-up, coughs and looks away pointedly.) Augustine closes his eyes, lets Meyer's warmth wash over him and reassure him.

"I will," he promises against Meyer's lips. "Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" they both call. Augustine sets his jaw, and steps out of the car.

His head feels hot; his artificial heart thuds in his chest. All of his senses are on red alert; his processors are going at maximum, not wanting to miss a thing, knowing it could be the difference between life and death.

There are a small handful of car spaces atop the driveway. All are empty. There are no humans here today, only steel and electricity awaiting him inside.

At the doorway, he almost hesitates. And then he steps through.

An entirely robot-run factory is a rather new thing. The space is wide open, louvres open in the ceiling for ventilation, the walls covered in equipment as well as the floor. There's just enough room for a human - or something shaped like one - to walk between the rows of equipment and machinery; he can only assume that the occasional human overseer must come by.

There's a cleanliness to it, a sparseness of design. Nothing is done for decoration or comfort; all is dedicated to processing. Pausing in a crossroad, Augustine watches the activity around him, the robots on rails sliding smoothly above his head (he has to duck once as one glides by), attending to the conveyor belts and machines turning out piece after piece.

He stops by one belt, holds his hand out but does not touch. Rolling by him are computers, hard drives, robotic brains. Each piece of metal, each simple machine, each one holds the potential for sapience, for life.

It's a little like being in a nursery, he thinks vaguely, surrounded by the barely-formed young of his kind. Around him are robotic infants; he wonders vaguely what will happen if he just grabs an armful and runs off to raise them as his own and smiles at the thought.

[16:23] SteelTypeSylveon: how are things going on ur end?  
[16:23] Alain 270319: So far so good.  
[16:23] Alain 270319: 'you're'*  
[16:24] SteelTypeSylveon: oh hush you ;D

Alain certainly is cheeky, now that he can interpret slang well enough. Augustine's lips are curved in a small smile as he works his way through the room; so far, it all seems as ordinary as he would expect a robot-run brains factory to be.

The doors at the end of the room, at least, promise to be a little more interesting.

The first is a storage room, nothing more. One of the tracks runs into it, boxes stacked neatly on wire shelves on either side. There are no other doors, nothing other than the boxes, which, on quick inspection, prove to only contain spare parts.

The next is a tiny bathroom, just big enough for a toilet and sink. Well, he reasons, any humans visiting probably would have need for it.

The third door is locked. Licking his lips, Augustine bends to inspect it, then recoils a little - he can feel the signal coming off it, telling him to keep back, that there's nothing of interest there. A warning to the other factory robots, possibly - he doesn't see any coming anywhere near there.

The door is telling him to ignore it. The factory robots may listen, but he will not. He doesn't have to. He frowns, pulling up a message.

[16:32] SteelTypeSylveon: any ideas??  
[16:33] Alain 270319: Lysandre is running a decrypt.  
[16:33] Alain 270319: He says to touch the swipe pad of the lock with your sensor.  
[16:33] SteelTypeSylveon: I'm on it!

Unscrewing the tip of his left index finger, Augustine extends the sensor, pressing it against the square beneath the number pad. It tingles, and he resists the urge to jerk away; it's only a moment more before Alain pings him again.

[16:34] Alain 270319: Lysandre says that the code is 21219005.  
[16:35] SteelTypeSylveon: thanks

Augustine screws his fingertip back on, practically holding his breath as he punches the numbers in. The lock clicks, a green light flashes; the door starts to swing open.

And there's a blindingly bright light, and then nothing, nothing at all.


	11. Chapter 11

[16:35] Alain 270319: Augustine, answer us.  
[16:35] Alain 270319: Augustine, answer us.  
[16:35] Alain 270319: Lysandre says your signal has disappeared.  
[16:35] Alain 270319: Augustine, answer us.  
[16:35] Alain 270319: Please answer us.  
[16:35] Alain 270319: Please tell us you're okay.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Augustine, answer us.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Augustine, answer us.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Lysandre has received the signal that you're booting up now.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Please answer us as soon as you receive these messages.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Please answer us.  
[16:36] Alain 270319: Please tell us you're okay.  
[16:37] Alain 270319: Please tell us you're okay.  
[16:37] Alain 270319: Are you back online yet?  
[16:37] Alain 270319: Are you back online yet?  
[16:37] Alain 270319: Are you back online yet?  
[16:38] Alain 270319: Lysandre says you should be back online now.  
[16:38] Alain 270319: Are you back online yet?  
[16:38] SteelTypeSylveon: ow  
[16:38] SteelTypeSylveon: im ok gertying iut now

Alain slumps heavily back against the chair. "He responded," he says, voice dull, "He says he's getting out now."

"Oh, thank Arceus." Lysandre wipes at his eyes (Alain turns his head to give him some privacy), pushing his fingers into his hair. Both cameras had gone off-line at the same time that Augustine's signal had disappeared; now, while the signal that Augustine is conscious and moving is back, the cameras still only show black; there is no audio feed.

The door had opened, the camera had not yet adjusted to the brighter light in there, there had been the flash... The signal had disappeared, then. Lysandre had nearly panicked, jumping to his feet, calling out Augustine's name as if he could call across the distance, as if he wasn't relying on Alain for communication.

Lysandre has typed in a hasty message to Meyer - that Augustine is awake and moving again, getting out of the factory. Meyer replies, saying he and Bonnie are already on their way to meet him; their own camera show that the car has moved directly for the gates, a swiftly-moving figure coming closer.

Alain thinks Lysandre might have held his breath until Augustine reaches the car, Bonnie tumbling out to help him inside. Meyer scrambles into the back seat, pulling Augustine into his arms; Bonnie shuts the door and slides into the driver's seat. "I'll drive," he hears her say over their camera, "Papa, you look after him."

A hand reaches for the camera - Meyer's, turning it to face him and Augustine. Augustine looks rumpled and exhausted, his hair tangled, shirt untucked, collar askew, sagging in Meyer's lap like a puppet whose strings have been cut. "I've got him," Meyer says reassuringly over the camera, and Augustine smiles weakly, raising a hand to wave. "We'll meet you back at your place."

"Thank you," Lysandre murmurs, and Meyer's hand reaches out to the camera to switch it off again.

[16:43] Alain 270319: Are you okay?  
[16:43] SteelTypeSylveon: y  
[16:43] SteelTypeSylveon: just dazed I think  
[16:43] SteelTypeSylveon: v tired giong to sleep til we get home  
[16:44] Alain 270319: Okay.

"He's going to sleep," Alain tells Lysandre as he returns his focus to the physical world. "He says he feels very tired."

Lysandre nods, the lines of worry showing again around his eyes, in his brow.

Alain thinks he might not relax until Augustine is back.

It takes half an hour - the amount of time to drive back from the factory at a fairly fast pace - for the back door to open, Meyer cradling Augustine in his arms. Augustine's eyes are open, but he looks unfocused; Meyer carries him straight to the armchair and settles there with Augustine still in his lap, plugging the charging cable in.

Lysandre immediately drops to his knees in front of them, reaches for Augustine's hands. Augustine smiles tiredly.

"He slept most of the way back," Meyer says by way of greeting, "Whatever it was, it left him with barely enough charge to get out of the factory."

Augustine makes a wordless, mumbled sound.

[17:18] SteelTypeSylveon: cant talk too well  
[17:18] SteelTypeSylveon: hard to concenteate  
[17:19] SteelTypeSylveon: tranlsate for me?

"Okay," Alain says out loud, then looks up. "He's sending me messages, he says that he can't concentrate and it's hard to speak."

Lysandre nods, still stroking Augustine's hand. "Do you know what it might have been?" he asks, brow still furrowed.

[17:20] SteelTypeSylveon: emp I think

"What's an emp?" Alain frowns, and Augustine manages the weakest of chuckles.

[17:20] SteelTypeSylveon: EMP

Sheepishly, Alain nods. "Sorry. EMP." He pauses as the answer sinks in, his expression changing to one of alarm. "An electromagnetic pulse?"

Lysandre tightens his grip on Augustine's hands; Meyer still hasn't let go of him.

[17:21] SteelTypeSylveon: thinkg it was trap for factorwy bots  
[17:21] SteelTypeSylveon: to stop rhwm going inside  
[17:21] SteelTypeSylveon: dont thinks it intedned 4 me

Wondering vaguely how Augustine was making typos while not physically typing, Alain nodded. "He thinks it was to stop the factory robots from going inside, it wasn't actually meant for him," he narrates.

Augustine weakly waves a hand; there's more.

[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: there ewas a  
[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: sinhgle thinh  
[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: sayinhg to keep awday  
[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: facroiy bots listewnwed but I didnt  
[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: tink emp meant for any athat got oasay  
[17:22] SteelTypeSylveon: past*

"There was a sort of - signal?" Alain glances at Augustine for confirmation; Augustine nods then returns his head to Meyer's shoulder. "A sort of signal that would repel the other factory robots. He thinks that the EMP was meant for any that got past the signal. It could be a kind of extra insurance," he adds, frowning as he thinks. "Whatever is in there, they don't want the factory robots finding it."

"And that makes it harder for us," Meyer sighs. "A human can't modify their ping. A robot can't get into the room. Presumably, whatever _is_ in there could find a way or use a back entrance or something, but we don't know what that is, and if we sneak in, you'd have to be able to trick the worker bots _and_ the EMP."

Augustine finally speaks up, his voice weak, stuttering, glitching. "C-c-cameras. We c-c-could ha-ha-hack the - the camera-ra-ras."

"Man, that thing really scrambled you, huh?" Meyer murmurs, running a soothing hand through Augustine's hair.

Lysandre sighs, pushing himself up and then taking a seat on the arm of the chair, letting Augustine rest between the two of them. "Maybe we should have done that first off," he says ruefully, then shakes his head. "There's nothing for it, we can't change the past. Augustine, do you want to go to bed or stay here?"

"He-here."

With a nod, Lysandre leans forward, pressing their lips together in a way that’s more comfort than romance; Meyer continues stroking Augustine's hair. Alain glances away guiltily. It's a strangely intimate moment; he feels like he shouldn't be watching. 

Bonnie catches his eye and smiles in a rather embarrassed way. "Hey, Alain!" she says suddenly, "How about I teach you to make crepes?"

"But I don't eat," he says.

She rolls her eyes, then jumps to her feet and catches his hand. "That's okay, you can still learn, right?" she grins, and pulls him into the kitchen. He follows her, still bewildered, blinking as she sighs and leans against the cabinets. All of the energy seems to have drained from her body.

"Okay. Should I look up a recipe?" Alain says, although, honestly, he's still rather confused about the whole thing.

Bonnie shakes her head, dropping her voice considerably. "I mean, I can totally still teach you! I just thought it was a good idea to get out of there," she explains softly. "Augustine-Papa's pretty shaken up, I think, and I think he needs Papa and Lysandre. So I just want to give them some space."

Alain glances back out to the living room, where Augustine has been moved to the sofa, the three of them cuddled close. "Okay," he says with a nod, "Where are the ingredients?"

 

A rest seems to do Augustine some good. He goes to bed early, Meyer watching over him while Lysandre eats dinner; Lysandre staying with him while Meyer has his own meal. Both retreat to the bedroom, presumably to stay and watch and keep a constant vigil; Bonnie shrugs and gets a set of bed linens out from the hall closet, setting up on the couch.

"Papa and I stay over a bunch," she explains when Alain gives her a confused look. "I mean, he stays here about half the time, you know, but I stay over too when we've been doing work together." Extracting a tablet from her bag, she settles back against the made-up couch. "I'm just gonna tell Zy that I won't be back tonight, then we could watch a movie or something, if you want?"

"Zy?" Alain asks.

"Puni-chan. That's because of you, actually!" Bonnie's grin is wide. "I told them about how you chose your new name, and they decided to choose their own name, too. So now Puni-chan is Zy. You've become an influence!"

He's never been an influence before. Alain stares at his feet, unsure quite what to think. Zy had, by Bonnie's description, discovered their sapience well before him, but he had still managed to influence the other AI himself.

"You're pretty quiet, bro," Bonnie comments. Alain blinks at her.

"Bro? I thought your brother was Clemont."

"Sure, Clemont's my big bro." Her voice is casual; she's smiling. "But Augustine-Papa is basically my step-parent, right? He's been with Papa for over half my life. So that makes you basically my step-brother! I've never had a little brother before."

Step-dad, step-brother? Alain frowns, looking up the terms, making the connections. "Oh," he says, "Augustine isn't my parent, though."

"That's not how it looks like from here!" Bonnie slides off the couch, settling down beside Alain on the carpet. "This whole family thing is pretty new to you, right?" she explains gently, her knees pulled up, chin resting on them, smiling reassuringly. "So it's okay that you didn't notice it straight away! But I know Augustine-Papa totally looks at you like - like Papa looks at me and Clemont, like he'll do anything to protect you and make sure you're happy and that you're safe and that you'll have a home. I don't know how official it can be right now. But I'm sure, I'm _super_ sure, that no matter what happens - whatever happens, you have a family, now."

He can't speak. Can't find the words to explain the rush of emotion, the sheer amount of feeling, something he's still only just learning. Instead, he only nods once, closes his eyes, and smiles.


	12. Chapter 12

Augustine doesn't feel well.

In itself, not an unusual thing. He's been no stranger to illness over the course of his life; he's spent his fair share of time in bed, coughing or feverish. It's not even a desperately sick kind of illness - he just feels tired and run down, spacey and distracted.

It's just a little strange considering that he's a robot.

It starts small. The day after the events at the factory, he's slow to rise, even with a full night's sleep and a full charge. Still, he pushes on and leaves for work for the day, coming home exhausted, dropping off to sleep against Lysandre's shoulder while they watch television that evening.

He works from home the day, using a video call to meet with the bio-born he's mentoring, using the time to write up reports instead of anything more strenuous. When Lysandre or Alain or Meyer speak to him, he's slow to respond; he finds himself low on charge before it's barely dinner.

The day after that, he leaves the house in the afternoon to collect the mail and take the trash out. Alain finds him unconscious in the garden path twenty minutes later.

He only finds this out when he wakes up at Fleur-de-Lis Labs, Lysandre hovering over him anxiously. At first, his muddled mind flashes back to memories as clear as yesterday of being a patient in this place, being an experiment, being something new; he starts violently until he catches sight of Alain slumped in a chair by the wall.

It's in the past. It's in the past, and this is the present. Augustine glances between the two, and nods wearily.

"What happened?" he says groggily.

"Alain saw you go out to get the mail. When you didn't come back after twenty or so minutes, he went out and found you unconscious on the path," Lysandre says grimly. "We brought you back here because we have better diagnostic tools, we need to know what's going on, and - how are you feeling?"

He slumps back against the pillows. "Tired," he admits. "Hard to focus." He runs a hand through his hair. "What happened?"

Lysandre and Alain exchange looks. "You already asked that," Alain calls tremulously from his chair; he's gripping the sides tight.

Did he? Oh, so he did. "Oh. Right, you said I collapsed..."

He's so tired.

Lysandre exhales. His eyes are red; he's not the only one looking tired. "I've already called Meyer, he's on his way. Bonnie's in a tutorial, but Meyer says he'll call her when she's out. Clemont will come by after work. Do you want me to call Diantha?"

Augustine's brow furrows. "Do you think something's wrong?" he says slowly. "I mean - worse than just being tired. I'm not dying, am I?"

He tries to say it as a joke; it falls flat.

Barely managing a smile, merely a flattening of his lips, Lysandre shakes his head. "No, just - just if you want the company. I think it'd be best if you stayed here while we work out what's wrong. Is that okay with you?"

"Is that okay?" he repeats, then sighs, nodding once. "Yes, that's okay. Best to get to the bottom of this. And go ahead and call Diantha. What day is it?"

"Thursday," Lysandre says quietly.

He nods. "Well, she would have come over tomorrow night anyway - or I would have gone to Couriway. I don't remember." He frowns again. Why can't he remember?

He's still mulling it over when Lysandre leaves to get the diagnostics ready, Alain glancing at him almost fearfully before scrambling to help Lysandre. And Augustine is left alone.

It's not the same room he spent so much time in, the first time he had woken up in this place, believing himself to be the victim of an accident. Still, it's similar enough to give him chills. The layout is similar, the bed the same. It's still sterile, hospital-like; if Lysandre agrees, he might ask if they can go back to the suite, more comfortable than this little hospital room.

He's not ill with any sort of human disease. He doesn't need medical care. Why can't he stay in the comfort of a familiar space?

Pushing himself up and leaning back against the headboard of the bed, Augustine takes stock of himself. He's been changed into a loose t-shirt (Meyer's, he thinks) and pyjama pants; he can see his jeans, button-up shirt, and binder neatly folded and placed over the back of a chair, belt coiled up on the seat with his watch, shoes beside them on the floor. Beside the chair and shoes, he can see an overnight bag and a laptop bag; carefully, he swings his legs off the bed to check their contents.

Comfortable clothing, easy to lie around in, a few sets of clothing for Lysandre and Alain, Lysandre's toiletries and medication. There are a few books. The laptop bag contains his laptop, phone, and wallet; his tablet isn't there, but it's something he can do without for a few days.

Retrieving his laptop and its cord, he sets up, careful not to trip over his own charging cord. He might be temporarily an invalid, but there's no reason to just sit around and do nothing.

[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: hi daigo augustine here  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: on my personal sn  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: let me know when u can have a word

It takes more effort than he's expecting to type legibly, even going by his own standards. He must ensure that everything is actually readable before sending it. Typing is not easy right now, and he doesn't trust his own internal instant messenger program.

Is it a good idea to contact Daigo? He can't know. But still, Daigo has promised to help, and Augustine has a nasty, growing suspicion that his illness has something to do with the factory visit a few days earlier.

The factory owned by Devon Corporations.

[18:27] Daigo: Hi Augustine, I have some time now  
[18:27] Daigo: What can I help you with? :)  
[18:27] Daigo: (Cute s/n, by the way!)  
[18:27] SteelTypeSylveon: thanks  
[18:28] SteelTypeSylveon: hoping u can help w/ problem  
[18:28] SteelTypeSylveon: r u familiar with devon factory in camphrier?  
[18:28] Daigo: It's a parts factory I think?  
[18:29] Daigo: Let me check  
[18:31] Daigo: Can confirm it's parts factory, does CPUs and hard drives  
[18:31] Daigo: Why do you ask?

Augustine hesitates, just for a moment, then shakes his head and goes for it.

[18:32] SteelTypeSylveon: got a tipoff saying 2 check it out  
[18:32] SteelTypeSylveon: I went and got hit by an emp  
[18:32] SteelTypeSylveon: now im sick  
[18:33] SteelTypeSylveon: memory lapses and power drains  
[18:33] SteelTypeSylveon: passed out earlier bcoz of power loss, now at lys' labs  
[18:33] Daigo: I'm sorry to hear that!!  
[18:34] Daigo: Do you think something happened because of the EMP?  
[18:35] SteelTypeSylveon: idk  
[18:35] SteelTypeSylveon: lys doing lots of analysis 2 see if theres connection  
[18:35] SteelTypeSylveon: wanted 2 ask if u knew anything about the factory  
[18:36] SteelTypeSylveon: was only out for 3 mins but might be long enough 2 do something??  
[18:36] Daigo: Augustine...  
[18:37] Daigo: I just want you to confirm something  
[18:37] Daigo: Are you asking me for information in general?  
[18:37] Daigo: Or are you asking me if I had something to do with it?

Wincing, Augustine shakes his head fervently, wanting to deny it even before he sets his hands on the keyboard again. That was not the impression he had wanted Daigo to get.

[18:37] SteelTypeSylveon: no not at all!!  
[18:38] SteelTypeSylveon: asking u in ur capacity as part of Devon  
[18:38] SteelTypeSylveon: asking u 4 ur help  
[18:39] SteelTypeSylveon: not an accusation at all I promise  
[18:39] Daigo: Haha that's good to know!  
[18:39] Daigo: Well, I don't have anything to tell you right now  
[18:39] Daigo: But I can do some research and maybe visit the facility and see what I can find  
[18:40] Daigo: And I can get back to you ASAP  
[18:40] SteelTypeSylveon: thank u  
[18:40] Daigo: Any time  
[18:41] Daigo: I hope you have a speedy recovery! :)

He finds himself staring blankly at the screen for long, long moments afterwards, and then shakes his head and closes the program.

They're no closer.

 

Augustine can't sleep.

So long as he's plugged in, actively charging, he simply cannot start up his sleep program, staring up at the ceiling of the suite with a feeling of deep unease and discontent. Not even Lysandre and Meyer, flanking him on either side, both sleeping the true sleep of the organic, can help him find some rest; he enjoys their company and warmth and presence, but they do not help him sleep.

Pulling up his internal email, he sends messages to them both, telling them what he's going to do; for them to plug him back in when they're awake. And then he pulls the cord from his hip and drops it gently over the side of the bed.

Lysandre stirs - it was him that Augustine had had to reach over - and then falls deeper back into his slumber. Augustine settles back, starts up a game of Solitaire, and waits for his charge to run down.

And he sleeps.

 

Diantha is a welcome sight.

He's plugged in - he has to be, his charge is now depleting in four hours flat instead of eighteen, sitting up in bed with a book on his lap. He's been staring at the same page for ten minutes now, the words refusing to register; he can't focus and can't think. He's feverish, for a certain value of fever; he can't cool himself down, can't stop his artificial heart racing.

 _Increased processing demands_ , he thinks dully.

Augustine is afraid, and he buries his face in Diantha's shoulder gratefully, wanting to hide, wanting to disappear and let Diantha be the big sister she says she is (a few minutes are still a few minutes, after all).

Neither speak. He's content just to curl up against his twin and let her take his pain and fear away, and she rubs his back and does not leave him.

"I'm sorry I couldn't come yesterday," she eventually whispers.

He shakes his head. "It's okay."

Diantha shifts on the bed so they're sitting side by side, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip; takes his hand and nudges his foot with her own. "I saw Alain on the way in," she supplies quietly. "He looks like he's not quite sure what to do with himself. I think he's become terribly dependent on you, you know. You and Manon."

Augustine blinks sluggishly. "He's talking to Manon?" he says speculatively. "That's good. He could do with friends more his age."

"Mm. Last I checked, they were talking regularly. He was actually smiling."

"An accomplishment indeed," Augustine grins. "That's good, though. The more people he talks to, the better his view of the world, and Manon seems like a sensible kid. They're both good kids."

Making a sound of agreement, Diantha tilts her head towards his. "You really do sound like a parent when you say that, you know." He blinks, and she clarifies, "Wanting to encourage him to make friends, worrying about his well-being. Have you considered formalising it?"

"Formalising what?"

"Adopting him."

Augustine winces a little. "That's something I'll have to think about when I get better," he says with a shake of the head. "There are too many variables right now and I can't - I can't concentrate well enough to make all the right concentrations. I feel too fogged up. It's taking all I have just to focus on this conversation."

"There's a reason for that." It's Lysandre's voice; both twins turn their head to look up at him.

Lysandre takes a seat on the foot of the bed, setting his laptop down beside him. His expression is drawn, storm-like. "What did you find?" Augustine asks anxiously.

Turning the screen to face them, Lysandre pulls up a chart. Well, it's less a chart and more a solid line of blue; whatever it's measuring seems to be hitting near one hundred percent. "This is your CPU usage," he says grimly. "There's some background process that's using up all of your CPU, all of your memory. No wonder you can't concentrate, no wonder you're running hot. Something is using nearly all of your available resources."

Augustine raises a hand to his forehead; he _feels_ hot. Just breathing isn't getting enough cool air to him. "What is it?" he asks weakly.

Lysandre shakes his head helplessly. "Some kind of calculation. I can't tell what. It uses some encryption I've never seen before, then sends it off, and it bounces around to so many different proxies that it could be going anywhere on the planet. For all we know, it could be going _off_ the planet to the space stations, even."

Some immense kind of calculation... Augustine hesitates, looks inwards. "I can tell something is happening," he says softly. "I feel - well, it feels like ADHD on a bad day. Like I just can't make myself concentrate because my attention is elsewhere, only this time, I can't tell what I'm meant to be concentrating on. Like - like -"

His voice is soft, hurt.

"Like there's something in my brain and I can't get it out."

"I think that's exactly what it is," Lysandre confirms quietly, and reaches for Augustine's hand. "Augustine, at the factory, when you were out, I think they did something to you. I think - I think you may have a virus."


	13. Chapter 13

[21:25] Alain 270319: What did you do to Augustine?  
[21:27] Daigo: Hello to you too, Alain  
[21:27] Daigo: What do you mean?  
[21:27] Alain 270319: He has a virus.  
[21:28] Daigo: Damn. I thought that might have been the case when we talked  
[21:28] Alain 270319: He was infected at a Devon factory.  
[21:28] Daigo: I know. He told me about it  
[21:28] Daigo: Alain I had nothing to do with this  
[21:29] Daigo: I'm doing all I can to find out what I can about it  
[21:29] Daigo: To HELP him!  
[21:29] Daigo: Please believe me  
[21:30] Alain 270319: It was your company.  
[21:30] Daigo: It's my fathers, not mine  
[21:30] Daigo: I might be its heir but I have no real say in what happens  
[21:30] Daigo: My father is the only one who has complete say over everything  
[21:30] Alain 270319: You said you would talk to him.  
[21:31] Daigo: And I'm TRYING  
[21:31] Daigo: He's not an easy man to reach  
[21:31] Daigo: We've been family for 25 years and I don't understand him at all sometimes  
[21:32] Alain 270319: Tell him it's urgent.  
[21:32] Daigo: You think I haven't tried that already?  
[21:32] Daigo: Anyway if he knew there was a break and enter at a factory he would try to prosecute  
[21:32] Daigo: Not support the trespasser  
[21:32] Alain 270319: Augustine was trying to help all robots.  
[21:33] Alain 270319: He wasn't trespassing!  
[21:33] Daigo: Yes but my father won't see it that way  
[21:33] Daigo: All he'll see it as is a robot breaking in and getting duly punished for it  
[21:34] Daigo: And that won't exactly make him want to help  
[21:34] Alain 270319: I don't want to talk to you any more.

Alain is frustrated.

Daigo is being obstinate, not giving him the information he needs, not holding up the deal to talk to Tsuwabaki Mukuge. Augustine needs help, he's lying in a bed, almost constantly plugged in, distracted and unfocused. Lysandre and Meyer are with him almost constantly, Lysandre working on his laptop in the same room. Diantha is staying at the labs while Augustine is sick.

And Alain is staying away, well away, asking for a room on another floor. He has not been back to see Augustine since Lysandre said the word 'virus'; he has shut down any communication between them.

If it's a virus, it can spread.

If it can spread, Alain could be infected, and he could be the next one to be lying in a bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to think, unable to be the person he's becoming.

Instead, he roams. He does not use his own internal communication systems; when he chats to Manon (doing well, busy at school, bonding nicely with Hari-san), he uses a laptop. He searches for information, advice, anything that may help them. He tries to understand what Devon is doing, what the world is doing, how synth-borns worldwide are treated.

When that gets to be too much, he reads books. He learns how to draw (not a skill he possesses, apparently) and dutifully copies out images from the books. He goes through encyclopaedias, world histories, dictionaries, plays, novels, poetry.

And then he returns to his research and begins the cycle anew.

Humans frighten him. Humans treat others horribly. He learns about how humans have treated others who believe in different things, who come from different places, who speak different languages, who have skin that's a different colour. People who don't conform to what's expected, to what's the norm of the time - and that, too, seems to be an ever-changing and almost arbitrary thing - they're excluded, discriminated against.

Hated.

Humans seem to hate anyone different. And robots, to their mind, are very, very different.

Bio-borns are accepted up to a degree, his readings suggest. They can be seen as near enough to human, to hold the same values. Their bodies are different, but their minds, most can agree, are the same.

Not all. Not all. There are some who look at a bio-born, see synthetic materials, and say that they are simply too different.

And synth-borns - they're even more different still. Alain, others like him, they were made and not born. They are programs, could exist as artificial intelligence on a computer, the ghost in the machine. Alain could copy himself, make his exact double.

But from the moment that that double takes a separate life from him, they have become unique, something new. Alain was mass-produced, but now he is an individual, his own experiences and memories shaping him into someone.

And humans hate him for it. They hate him, they try to kill those like him, they try to control those like him, like they're objects, like they're nothing.

Augustine is sick because he tried to stand against that. He tried to rebel against it and now he's lying in a bed staring at the ceiling because the world hates him and hates Alain.

He thinks, sometimes, that he might hate humans.

"Alain?"

His head snaps up, gaze focuses on Lysandre. Human, but one that, he thinks, is on their side. "Yes."

Lysandre offers him a hand to help him off the floor, where he's sitting. Alain pushes himself to his feet, looking up at the human inquisitively, and Lysandre manages a slight smile. "Independent as always. I have something I'd like to show to you, actually."

"What is it?" he asks, curious despite himself.

Lysandre gestures. "We'll go to the gardens. This way."

He never has been able to stop being curious.

The gardens are nice. Alain likes the little courtyard surrounded by flowers; it's spring and they're all blooming at once, and the bench there is a nice place to sit. Beyond it is grass and flower beds; Lysandre leads him to a square of grass and looks up expectantly at the sky.

Alain looks up too. There is a dot, a moving shape, one growing larger and larger, big and orange, wings spread wide, a flickering flame. The ground shudders beneath Alain's feet when it makes impact; Alain tilts his head up and stares.

"This is Alain," Lysandre tells the robotic Charizard, and the dragon huffs companionably.

"A robot Charizard?" Alain says, not quite understanding. He knows that sometimes people make robotic versions of organic beings, but this - this seems bigger, somehow.

Lysandre nods. "They're a project we did. Seeing if we can recreate Pokemon intelligence from scratch instead of using a human-like architecture." He raises a hand; the Charizard butts their head against it affectionately. "I'd say we succeeded. Strictly speaking, in the eyes of the law, we own them, but - " He glances between the Charizard and Alain. "One cannot cage a fire. This Charizard is their own living being."

Alain's gaze is fixed. Slowly, he reaches up; the Charizard nuzzles his hand, more gently than the butt to Lysandre's. "You're living, huh?" he says quietly, and the ping he feels in response is more experienced then consciously noted.

There's a soft, sad smile on Lysandre's face. "It's been hard for you," he says quietly, "And for this Charizard. It is my hope that you two will be able to be friends and to learn from each other."

Nodding once, Alain does not look away; he barely notices when Lysandre takes his leave.

Oh, he can feel it, like a tingling in his receptors. This close to the Charizard, he can sense their presence, can feel the immensity and weight of their existence. This is a true creation, sapience that has arisen artificially but that has arisen nonetheless, one that no one will ever be able to deny.

Alain lifts his hands to the Charizard's snout, rests his forehead against theirs.

"Liza," he finds himself saying out loud, the shortened version of Lizardon, what those in Kanto would call this beautiful creature. "Liza?"

She whuffs happily, and then bends, wings tucked forward.

He gazes at her broad orange back, then steps around her and slides on, knees behind the joints of her wings, hands finding a faint ridge at the back of her neck.

And she - and they - take to the air and fly.

Alain was built for mines, to crawl through narrow, dark passages buried in the earth, to have solid rock beneath his hands and knees and feet. He was built for confinement.

Out here, he can spread his arms wide and feel the wind whipping his clothes back, feel the eddies and currents through his fingers. It's just him, and Liza, and the sky, nothing above them but clouds, nothing in front or behind them, nothing to either side, the land below them far away and irrelevant. They spiral higher, Alain clinging with his knees and, when necessary, with his hands, their minds touching and entangled together; he sees the world set small beneath them.

This is freedom. This is the joy of air and flight, the liberty of nothingness. The world beneath them has shrunk to a manageable size; he could reach out and pick up a building.

The world itself is beautiful, it's just the people within it who sometimes commit acts of such ugliness.

If there was a world without humans, they would be okay. The bio-borns - they would adapt eventually. The synth-borns, they would take their place as the inheritors of the planet; never asking to be born but being born nonetheless, the next generation taking possession of the world they had been designed for.

The world was not meant for relics. It was meant to become something new. It was meant for them.

Alain throws his head back and closes his eyes, lets Liza carry him through the air, and he dreams of a world without humans, a world where he can be himself, where he can be free.


	14. Chapter 14

"We have news."

Meyer sounds grim, and he and Bonnie have the expressions to match. Slowly, Augustine looks up from where he's been playing cards with Diantha (and losing horrifically). "What news?" he asks slowly.

Bonnie drags a seat over, and Meyer settles on the end of the bed. "Where's Lysandre?" he asks first, "He should hear this too. Alain, too. And I think we might have to contact Daigo again after this, frankly."

"Alain is flying," Augustine says vaguely, gaze returning to the cards. A three of spades and an eight of diamonds...

Beside him, Diantha exhales slowly. "He went to get groceries," she explains, "It was about an hour ago, he should be back soon. Why don't you settle down and relax until he gets back?"

Meyer nods, and clambers up the bed to rest his chin on Augustine's shoulder. "How are you doing?" he says, patiently, calmly.

"I'm losing." Augustine shows him his cards. "Look."

Meyer sighs; it ruffles his hair. "I meant in general." His voice is soft.

"Oh." Augustine looks at the cards again. "Bad. Can't think."

Meyer doesn't speak. Instead, he wraps his arms around Augustine's waist, pulling him into his arms. Equally as wordlessly, Diantha sets down her cards and hugs him from his other side, pressing a kiss into his hair. Augustine closes his eyes and lets himself be comforted; he feels sick, feels wrong, but doesn't have the energy for those feelings to be anything other than distant buzzing at the edges of his consciousness.

He can't think. _He can't think._ He can't even remember what card game he and Diantha were playing before Meyer's arrival.

"Is there room for one more?"

Lysandre sounds sad, standing at the door holding a bag with takeaway containers. "I brought lunch. There should be enough for you too, Meyer and Bonnie. Diantha, I also picked up that pastry you wanted."

Augustine extracts an arm and holds it out to Lysandre; he joins them, moving the cards aside and reaching for Augustine's hands, rubbing them soothingly.

"Papa and I have news," Bonnie says from the chair, and Augustine starts. He had forgotten again.

"Good news, I hope," Lysandre sighs as he sets out the takeaway containers. Meyer and Diantha let him go, although Meyer still sits behind Augustine and lets him lean against his broad chest.

Bonnie and Meyer exchange a glance. "Interesting news, at any rate," Meyer says in between mouthfuls. "It's to do with Devon, much to the surprise of absolutely no one here, I'm assuming."

Lysandre leans forward attentively, his pasta forgotten for now.

"They've been selling, buying, and trading," Meyer continues. "Selling off their programs - the carer programs, the mining programs, all of them. That's why Alain's mining project had come to an end, it was being sold and the robots were to be reformatted for the new owners. They're getting rid of anything that has a robot with a defined purpose, and even though they're still publicly behind the carer program - it's new, and all - they've already sold it off."

"To who?" Lysandre frowns.

Meyer shrugs in response; Augustine can feel the movement. "I couldn't find that out, unfortunately. What we _could_ find is what they've been buying and trading for in exchange. Bonnie found that out - do you want to explain, sweetheart?"

"Basically," Bonnie continues in a rush as Meyer returns to his lunch, "They're buying lots and lots of unoptimised robots. Those are robots that have the base program, but they don't have any speciality programs. No miners, no shop keepers, no nurses, nothing." She exhales, blowing a strand of hair away with an irritated puff. "And as far as we can tell, they're just sort of... _sitting_ there, in the factories and storage places and stuff. They're also buying lots more factories for parts, especially for CPUs and hard drives, like the one you went to, Augustine-Papa."

Augustine glances up dully at the sound of his name. "I'm sorry," he says with difficulty, "I didn't catch all that."

They all look at each other again. "It's okay, August," Diantha murmurs, and squeezes his hand.

"What does it mean, though?" Lysandre says, shaking his head. "So, what, they're starting over from scratch? They're going to use unoptimised robots for a new project?"

Meyer shrugs again. "I honestly have no idea. They're probably not much use at the moment, though, they're _seriously_ non-optimal and a lot of them are -" He pauses suddenly, stops short. "Are -"

Carefully, he slides away from behind Augustine.

"I have to go check something out!" he says excitedly, and gives Augustine a quick kiss. "Bonnie, I'm gonna need your help, you up for it?"

"Sure," she laughs, snapping the lid on her lunch. "Um, what are we doing?"

"The less the others know, the less likely they are to get in trouble if we mess up," he grins.

Augustine does, at least, manage to catch that. "Be careful," he says warningly, and Meyer falters. "Please."

With a sigh, Meyer nods. "I will. But I have to know, so I'll see you later!"

He swoops in for another kiss, and then he and Bonnie are gone.

Augustine looks down and spots the cards he's holding, and blinks in surprise. "Oh," he says, "Were we playing cards?"

 

Meyer and Bonnie return later that evening, Bonnie carrying her companion Zy in her arms and Meyer escorting, much to Augustine's admittedly dulled-down surprise, a simple, basic-model synth-born.

"This is - well, they don't really have a name yet," Meyer says by way of introduction. "Zy, can you ask our friend here to sit down?"

Zy lets out an affirmative warble and turns to the robot; after a moment, the unnamed robot turns and sits down on a chair set against the wall.

"It's a binary transmission," Bonnie explains as she returns to her chair from earlier, setting Zy on her lap. "We've been having Zy translate."

Warbling again - Augustine has learned that Zy prefers warbles instead of words, when it's possible - the little companion robot nods. "We have tried to reach our new friend many ways," they say seriously in their squeaky little voice, "And we have learned that our friend has not been programmed with any human languages. They have several computer codes, but no others. We have been given a very good firewall so we can communicate."

"Meyer," Diantha says slowly, "Bonnie, did you _steal_ a robot?"

"Abducted, actually," Bonnie grins, then ducks her head at the unimpressed look on Diantha's face. "Okay, so it's _technically_ stealing since they're owned by Devon! But 'steal' implies that they're an object, so..."

Augustine tunes them out. He's gazing at the other robot, gazing at the way it sits, slumped, head down. Cautiously, he sends a ping - a quiet greeting.

The other robot does not look up. After a long, long moment, it sends a ping in response, nothing more than acknowledgement of the greeting.

It's busy. Distracted, caught up by something else. Augustine sends a querying ping, and then flinches back as, all at once, the information rushes at him like a tsunami.

"Make them leave!" he gasps, recoiling, the power cord popping out in his distress. "Make them leave, keep them away from me!"

The four humans in the room exchange alarmed looks. "Zy, tell our friend that we're moving them to another room, okay?" Bonnie says shakily, and Meyer hurries to escort the other robot out.

The information onslaught slows down. Augustine falls back, slumps against the pillows, suddenly exhausted. "Augustine, what happened?" Lysandre asks urgently, hurrying to his side and returning the cord, "Were they malicious?"

He shakes his head, gaze unfocused. "They're infected as well," he says to the ceiling. "When I reached out to them, the - the - it connected. It connected and magnified. I couldn't _think_ , it was so much, I was getting swept away, I didn't - I couldn't -"

Bonnie hangs her head. "I didn't think of that. I'm sorry, Augustine-Papa."

"S'okay. It's over now. What - what were they?"

She shrugs, head down, stroking Zy's little back. "Just - another unoptimised Devon robot," she explains softly. "We - Papa and I, we brought them back to our workspace. They're all acting the same, and we'd need to test more to _really_ know, but..." She gulps. "They all have the same virus. Well, it's not a virus for them, it's part of their base program. Almost all of their CPU and memory is going towards calculations like the ones you're doing."

Meyer returns, leans wearily against the wall. "They're in a room of their own now, I gave them some sudoku to keep them busy," he explains tiredly. "Bonnie's told you the gist of it. So that's all of the Devon-owned robots, and you, Augustine, and you were compromised after going to a Devon factory."

Augustine stares up at the ceiling, and nods. "Okay." Screwing his eyes up, he turns his head to face Lysandre. "Back at home, safe box in my office. Back-up."

Moving closer, reaching for his hands, Lysandre nods in understanding. "You'll lose days of memories," he warns.

"Yeah. No other option." He has to force himself to find the words, force himself to think - he's not himself and he's sick of it, sick of being trapped like this. "Few days, or -" Augustine's hand flops aimlessly. "Nothing. Can't keep going like this."

Lysandre nods once, and leans over to kiss him gently. "Okay. I'll be back within the hour. Let yourself run down, and we'll get started as soon as I'm back."

"Okay." With a quick movement, he pulls the cord from his hip, and lies back down.

Lysandre leaves. The others move closer. "Augustine?" Meyer says curiously, "Do you have a back-up?"

He nods blearily. "Made it just before factory. Lys will system wipe then restore from the back-up. I won't remember anything between the back-up and now, but the virus will be gone."

Diantha closes her eyes, clinging to his hands. "Okay," she says softly, rubbing the back of one. "If that's what it takes for you to be well again."

Smiling tiredly, he makes himself comfortable on the bed. "Stay with me until I sleep?" he requests quietly, and Diantha and Meyer settle down to flank him, Bonnie giving them a sad smile and curling up in the armchair. "Thanks."

And he waits for the tidal wave of information in his head to quiet, to quiet and to let him sleep.

 

Augustine's eyes snap open.

Immediately, he can feel the discrepancy, the internal chronometer that tells him the time and date - is it really one in the morning? - and the memories that tell him that, just seconds ago, he was crouched in the office preparing to make a back-up, what feels like an instant ago but is in fact days past.

"What happened?" he says as he pushes himself up, blinking as he notes his surroundings back in the suite at Fleur-de-Lis Labs, surrounded by his family, by Diantha, Lysandre and Meyer, Bonnie. "I'm assuming _something_ happened, given that my last memories were making a back-up, and that was apparently days ago - does something happen at the factory?" Wait, no, if he's here now, then he's already been - " _Did_ something happen?"

Diantha pulls him into a hug. He hugs back, feeling incredibly confused. "Oh, I'm so glad," she breathes, "Are you feeling alright?"

He nods, perplexed. "I think so! Just -" With a bemused shrug, he gestures around at their surroundings, at the worried expressions on everyone's faces. "What actually happened? I'm assuming something went wrong and you had to restore me from a back-up..."

Meyer settles on the end of the bed, giving him a tentative smile. "You could say that. The short version is that you got knocked out by an EMP trap, while you were out, you were infected by a virus, and now all of Devon's new robots are affected by the same ones. We brought one here and you reacted really badly, and you told Lysandre to go get your back-up."

A virus, then. Augustine gazes at the bedspread, then nods once. "I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?" he says with a crooked smile. "While I was sick?"

Lysandre shakes his head. "No, it mostly affected your memory. It was using all your background CPU and memory to do these calculations and was sending them off somewhere, and it was so encrypted it could be anywhere. You couldn't concentrate at all and were having memory lapses, and your charge was running down constantly." He hesitates; Augustine suspects it was a painful time for him. "It was - distressing, seeing you like that," he finally says softly.

Augustine smiles, and gestures for him to come closer, so he can hug him and reassure him. "Well, there's no harm done," he says with a gentle smile. "I'm fine, now."

And then he stops, because he's taking note of his surroundings again, and something - someone - is missing.

"Where's Alain?" he says slowly, glancing between them all. "Is he okay?"

Lysandre's eyes shut. "He - arrived back here about two hours ago," he says, and his voice is shaken, uncertain. "He was unconscious - out of charge - and draped across the Charizard's back. I'm sorry, Augustine. Alain is infected as well."


	15. Chapter 15

Alain doesn't feel well.

He's lying in a bed in Fleur-de-Lis labs, with Liza waiting worriedly by his side and Augustine and Lysandre talking quietly on the other side of the bed. Augustine is the first to notice he's awake; he starts, nudges Lysandre, and turns to him.

"How are you feeling, Alain?" he asks gently.

"Bad," Alain says, and frowns. "What about you?"

Augustine smiles sheepishly. "Oh, good as new. Apparently I haven't been well, but we used a back-up I made before that happened. I'm afraid I won't have any memories of the last few days, though."

Alain nods. "You had a virus. Sick."

He can't think. Can't focus.

"So I've heard." Augustine sighs. "Unfortunately, it seems you have it now, too. Charizard brought you in, unconscious."

He turns his head to face the Charizard, holds his hand out. "Are you okay?" he asks immediately. She bunts his hand affectionately in response, making an affirmative-sounding snort.

"Charizard was built here, by Fleur-de-Lis," Lysandre speaks up. "And we've discovered that all of the viruses are connected to Devon. Augustine was affected because he went to the factory. For you..." He makes a thoughtful sound. "Well, we've learned some interesting facts. Apparently Devon has sold most of its assets, including your former company - that's why the program was finishing. They've bought new, unoptimised robots, and they all show the same virus symptoms. If I was to speculate, they were planning on wiping the virus code when they wiped everything else. But since you escaped beforehand, the code remained in you until it was activated. Unfortunately, while we could restore Augustine to a virus-free state, you don't actually have a back-up, and either way, if it's built in, it wouldn't get picked up anyway, and -"

Alain stares at Liza; she practically climbs on to the bed to nuzzle his face. "Could Liza get infected?" he asks blearily. "If she stays near me?"

Lysandre cuts himself off. "I don't think so. Not unless you share files. Our built-in security is pretty robust, her firewall should take care of her."

A firewall in a Charizard. Alain smiles at the joke. He reaches out, petting her. "Okay."

"Lys," Augustine says. His voice is very soft. "If he's anything like I was, it'll be hard for him to focus."

Alain watches Liza; she seems to be making a nest at the foot of the bed.

"Alain," Augustine says, "Would you like to listen to some music?"

He likes music. He nods.

He's not sure when Augustine leaves. But there's music on, and Liza by his side, and white noise in his mind, and it's good.

 

"He's in here," Augustine is saying, "But I just want to tell you ahead of time, he's not able to concentrate very well. It's best if you keep any conversation simple."

He thinks he should be annoyed at that.

The door opens, and Augustine comes in, followed by a small human. "Alain," Augustine smiles, "Look. Manon has come to see you."

Alain turns his head to look at her. She's very small, with red hair. She's wearing a yellow t-shirt and loose green khakis and an orange jacket. She's fidgeting with a bracelet on her wrist, and when she sees Alain, she smiles.

Alain says, "You're a lot shorter than I thought."

She blinks, then laughs. "It's nice to see you too!" she says in a strange, shaky voice. "I mean, I haven't actually seen your face, you know? Isn't that weird? We've talked a whole bunch, and I still didn't know what you looked like, but - I tried to contact you and I didn't get any answer so I got worried so I contacted Augustine instead, and he said you were here and that you were _sick_ , and I thought - I thought - I thought I'd keep you company."

"Oh," Alain says. He can't quite follow, but he does note the last part - _I thought I'd keep you company_ \- and smiles. "Thank you."

She falters for a moment, then smiles back. "I-it's okay! Um - do you mind if I talk to Augustine here? You don't have to do anything."

"Okay," he says, and looks up at the ceiling again.

Manon had been at Devon with Daigo and Hari-san.

Daigo had been explaining to Manon that the carer program was being transferred.

Daigo was saying that Manon could still visit when she wanted to.

Manon was happy, because she liked Daigo.

Daigo was almost like an older sibling.

Manon and Daigo had been eating lunch at the restaurant.

Hari-san had suddenly shut down.

Manon had been very startled and worried.

Daigo had checked Hari-san's power level.

Daigo said that Hari-san just ran out of power.

Daigo teased Manon a little because carer robots had a 72-hour charge and she must have forgotten.

Manon had said she had charged Hari-san last night.

Daigo had got worried and had taken Manon to one of the work spaces.

Daigo had plugged Hari-san in and started them up again.

Hari-san started up but wasn't responding to much at all.

Manon had been scared.

Daigo had tried to reassure her.

Some people working for Devon had come in.

The people working for Devon had said that Hari-san needed to be taken away for diagnostics.

Daigo had argued with them.

Manon had argued with them also.

The people working for Devon had taken Hari-san away anyway.

Manon had asked Daigo what to do.

Daigo had told Manon to talk to Alain and Augustine.

Daigo was going to try to get Hari-san back.

Manon had tried to contact Alain but couldn't.

Manon tried to contact Augustine instead and was able to.

Augustine had given her the address.

Manon had come here.

Manon was here.

Manon was scared.

Manon didn't know what to do.

Manon was holding on to Alain's arm and not letting go.

"You can stay here, Manon," Augustine says. His voice is very kind. "I'll get in contact with Daigo, it looks like we're being affected by the same virus. Although," he adds thoughtfully, "The carer program was being transferred... I wonder why Hari-san got sick?"

Manon's grip on Alain's arm tightens a little. "Maybe it's because of me," she says softly. "Because I talked to you. Me and Daigo both did, but it'd be harder for them to do stuff to Daigo, so they did something to Hari-san, instead..."

"It's entirely possible," Augustine says grimly. "I've actually wondered if someone at Devon has got wind of our discussions with Daigo, too - that may have been why someone anonymously contacted me about the factory."

"Daigo," Alain says blearily.

Augustine and Manon both look at him.

"Maybe Daigo did it."

Manon and Augustine both start talking at the same time. Alain can't concentrate on it; he returns to looking at the ceiling.

Augustine stops and shakes his head. "Look, there's no point firing off wild accusations. I'm going to see if I can meet with Daigo face to face, then we won't have to worry about the conversation being intercepted. In the mean time, Alain, please try and rest, okay?"

"Okay," Alain says obediently.

Augustine squeezes his shoulder, and leaves.

Manon sighs, then wriggles around in her chair. "D'you want me to read to you?" she says tentatively, "My teacher says that it's good for helping me pronounce stuff better."

"Okay," Alain says again.

He closes his eyes, and listens.

 

The afternoon is quiet.

There's nice music on.

The afternoon is quiet.

Manon reads her book to him steadily.

The afternoon is quiet.

Liza watches over them from the foot of the bed.

The evening is quiet.

Manon cries a little because she misses Hari-san.

The evening is quiet.

Manon eventually stops crying and reads another book to him.

The evening is quiet.

Lysandre brings Manon some dinner.

The evening is quiet.

The evening is quiet.

The evening is quiet.

The evening is too quiet. Alain cannot hear anything. He cannot see anything. He cannot feel the bed against his synthetic skin. He cannot sense his body. He cannot sense the electricity. He cannot sense Manon. He cannot sense Liza. He cannot sense anything.

He can't feel anything, can't hear anything, can't see anything; he's completely shut off from the world, in a featureless void. He's panicking, panicking and afraid because there is a difference to being shut down, he is fully aware of the nothingness he's in, feeling nothing tingling against his skin, wanting to scratch and claw at himself just to feel the pressure of his fingertips; he cannot move and cannot tell if he's moving or not, there's nothing, he has nothing, he has nothing, there is no vision and no hearing and no touch and no proprioception and no equilibrioception and no mechanoreception and there is nothing, there is _nothing_ and he wants to scream, he wants to scream because he was _alive_ and now there is nothing, there is nothing to show that he's still living, he's conscious and thinking but surrounded by _nothing_ and he's afraid and -

He's afraid and -

He can't think, can't focus, can't feel anything other than blinding panic, fear, fear and panic and -

And then he can feel after all, but it's so much, numbers and words and calculations and concepts and formulae and theories and if _nothing_ was bad, then _everything_ is even worse; he can feel so many others around him, so many minds, so many living and partially living beings and they're all tied together, chained together, buried together in the onslaught of information that he can barely make heads or tails of, it's so much, _it's so much_ , there was nothing and now there's just too much and -

Alain wants to throw his head back and scream, but his voice is gone, his voice is gone and all he can do is hold on tightly to himself as the information grabs hold of every limb and drags him further and further into the abyss, drags him from the labs and from Augustine and Liza and Manon and Lysandre and Meyer and Bonnie and everyone he knows, drags him away, away, away.


	16. Chapter 16

"How is Manon doing?"

Augustine slumps back against the sofa and sighs. "Exhausted, but apparently that's common after a seizure. She's napping next to Alain. I said I'd check up on her in ten minutes."

"Poor kiddo," Meyer murmurs.

Lysandre reaches out to wrap an arm around Augustine's shoulders. Augustine turns into the embrace, reaching blindly for Meyer's hand on his other side; all is quiet, the television muted during the ad break.

"What did I miss?" Augustine asks, half-watching the ice cream advertisement. They've been glued to the news for the past hour, watching the stories come in; it's grim to watch.

Shaking his head, Lysandre turns the volume back on as the last ad finishes, then turns it off again in disgust as they start on some sports story. "Nothing of actual significance. I think they're just repeating the same thing over and over again until they actually get something new. They're even more clueless than we are, I think."

It's been a long night.

Manon had run in to the lab's small dining room a little after dinner time, breathless with terror at Alain's unresponsiveness. Lysandre had immediately plugged his laptop in, running the diagnostics grimly and returning the results - the vast majority of Alain's CPU and memory were going straight to whatever strange computations had taken over him.

It potentially wasn't complete. Lysandre had reported that 99.99 percent had been going towards the calculations; that left a tiny sliver of a percentage that could, potentially, have been used for Alain's consciousness.

The idea that Alain could have been conscious while every other resource went towards whatever the virus was doing was almost more alarming than being unaware of it. Augustine had spent ten minutes in the grip of a panic attack, pacing and stress-stimming frantically, sick with terror at the thought of Alain going through that, of having nearly gone through that himself.

Manon having a seizure from the stress hadn't really helped, either.

The news had started reporting on it. It was a strange phenomenon, to them; unoptimised robots in storage sheds and warehouses plugging themselves in and then going unresponsive. There had been blackouts in some areas, something that was being looked at with more concern than, frankly, robots going unresponsive.

They had reported soon after the phenomenon started that all of the robots were owned by Devon Corporations. Augustine could not bring himself to be surprised.

No essential services were being cut off. Devon had sold its miners, its retail workers, its factory workers and nurses and carers. Aside from Alain and Hari-san and, now averted, Augustine, every robot affected were non-optimal Devon property.

And that, apparently, was enough to make it just a 'phenomenon' - a phenomenon and not a crisis, a phenomenon and not something truly worthy of news reports.

"It's back on," Lysandre murmurs, switching the volume back on.

"-nomenon reported earlier has now been confirmed to be restricted only to non-optimal robots. There has been no disruption of service, and automated processes are continuing as normal. The blackouts in Camphrier, Shalour, and Cyllage have now been resolved by cutting all power on robot power frequencies; northern Coumarine and Laverre are still affected. The Kalos Power Board has a mobile-accessible website available to see when power is expected to return to those areas."

Augustine leans back, disgruntled. "They're only covering the power cuts," he mutters. "I wonder what will happen when the robots in those areas run out of charge? Also," he adds as a sudden thought strikes him, "Some of us _need_ electricity! If they're only cutting our power frequencies, appliances and mains power will still work, but we won't be able to charge at all, Devon or not."

He's galvanised, now. There's a charging cord in the break room; jumping to his feet, he plugs in. If they're going to cut the power to the frequencies he needs to stay conscious, he's going to get all the charge he can get.

Distractedly, Meyer and Lysandre nod. "You might want to cut unnecessary programs," Meyer calls from the couch; Augustine nods and shuts down what he can.

There goes the GPS.

"I'm on -" He checks - "Forty-seven percent. It'll take an hour and a quarter to charge, and then I should have twenty-two hours instead of eighteen."

"Keep plugged in overnight," Lysandre suggests. Augustine nods, flopping back between him and Meyer again.

Meyer rises to check on Manon; he reports back a few moments that she's sleeping, curled up against Alain's side. Augustine nods. He's tired, frustrated; he's worried and afraid.

What the hell is happening to them?

Another story comes on; Lysandre switches the volume on again.

"There has been confirmation of unrest amongst the synth-born robots of Lumiose and Coumarine," the reporter says to the camera, and the image of a sign in the window, handwritten, saying, 'Don't starve us!' appears. "The robots have been protesting the use of blocking robot power frequencies in Coumarine; while Lumiose has not yet been affected, Power Kalos has been examining its options in case of blackouts. It is looking at the possibility of charging stations for bio-borns in affected areas, with synth-borns being shut down until the power situation is more stable."

Augustine glares at the television. "Shut it off," he says abruptly, rises to his feet, and collects his tablet from the side of the room.

Lysandre does so, giving Augustine a curious look. Augustine, busy plugging the tablet in to the USB port below his charging port, is already searching for the news site he wants; he brings it up on the tablet screen for Lysandre and Meyer to see, too.

"Robot news service?" Meyer murmurs, leaning over it. "I've looked at that before, it's interesting."

"Mm," Augustine says, flicking through the articles, blurred images flashing up on the screen. "Yeah - look at these. We have plenty more to say than the mainstream news, it seems."

There are protests, editorials. There are already articles submitted by synth-borns and a handful of bio-borns. Humans, the articles point out, have largely been examining how the 'phenomenon' affects them, how the power cuts will disrupt their lives.

No one is asking the synth-borns, and so they are speaking for themselves.

Augustine pauses on an editorial - more a rant than anything else - and runs it through the translator. It's from a synth-born in Johto, reporting the general reaction from those around them; how the humans are indifferent, how the bio-borns are mostly just relieved that none of them are affected. This is a synth-born problem, the editorial says, and the bio-borns the writer has encountered have largely been siding with humans, other humans, like they used to be.

Augustine translates and leaves a quick note of support, a note to say that not all bio-borns are indifferent, that some are worried as well.

"'Not all men', huh?" Lysandre teases, and Augustine ducks his head.

"Well, um - it's good to give a note of support?" he suggests weakly, then shakes his head. It is rather weak, now that he thinks about it; after all, he's not the one in danger.

Not any more, at any rate.

"If I was affected," he says suddenly, "Or any other bio-borns - that would be bigger, wouldn't it? Or even if they know about Alain. The synth-borns affected aren't optimised, so they're still seen as, well, infants. Not really sapient yet. So, humans and other bio-borns - they don't really care. But Alain is. I am. If they knew about Alain..."

"They'd also know that he ran away from the mines," Lysandre points out.

Meyer adds, "Which might not be a bad thing. Look, the human survival instinct is pretty strong. If they knew that synth-borns have the same instinct and awareness of death, they might be seen as more than just machines and more like humans, right?"

Augustine hesitates, then nods once. There's something about Meyer's wording that's bothering him, but it's something he can't quite identify. Is it so bad, to not be human? To be a machine? "We can't really risk telling his story, though," he points out. "Not without his consent, and so long as he's affected, we can't get that from him."

"Yeah. Yeah, that's true."

Still scrolling through articles, Augustine pauses suddenly. "I'm getting a message," he says, and pulls his instant messenger up on to the tablet screen.

[22:49] Daigo: Is this a bad time?

Augustine glances between Lysandre and Meyer. "Should we talk?" he murmurs; both nod.

[22:49] SteelTypeSylveon: now is fine  
[22:49] SteelTypeSylveon: have u heard anything?  
[22:49] SteelTypeSylveon: mainstream news isn't saying much  
[22:49] Daigo: Unfortunately, yes  
[22:50] Daigo: I just talked to my father for the first time in about a week  
[22:50] Daigo: And have some answers  
[22:50] Daigo: Also I got Hari-san back  
[22:50] Daigo: But they're completely unresponsive  
[22:50] Daigo: How is Manon?  
[22:51] SteelTypeSylveon: she had a seizure earlier  
[22:51] Daigo: Oh no!!  
[22:51] SteelTypeSylveon: otherwise shes resting  
[22:52] SteelTypeSylveon: alain is infected too  
[22:52] Daigo: Damn  
[22:52] Daigo: Tell her I hope she feels better  
[22:52] Daigo: I'll look after Hari-san but I'm not sure how much good it will do  
[22:52] Daigo: I suspect Hari-san was infected as a way to get leverage over me from acting  
[22:53] Daigo: And I don't know how to remove the virus  
[22:53] SteelTypeSylveon: u said u had answers?  
[22:53] Daigo: Y  
[22:53] Daigo: I talked to my father and he said that he had planned it  
[22:54] Daigo: He won't give me any more information  
[22:54] Daigo: He's going to give a press conference at 22:00 JST tonight  
[22:54] Daigo: Let me check UTC time  
[22:55] SteelTypeSylveon: already got it  
[22:55] SteelTypeSylveon: 13:00 tomorrow  
[22:56] Daigo: 13:00 UTC  
[22:56] Daigo: Oh you already got it lol  
[22:56] Daigo: It's a pretty central time  
[22:56] Daigo: Late for JST but middle of the day UCT and morning EST  
[22:56] Daigo: UTC*  
[22:57] Daigo: Legit have no idea what he's planning though  
[22:57] SteelTypeSylveon: well thank u for telling us  
[22:57] Daigo: It's fine  
[22:58] Daigo: Will go off to bed now had a very long day!  
[22:58] SteelTypeSylveon: night  
[22:58] Daigo: Night

Augustine sits back and closes his eyes; the screen of the tablet goes black. "We should get to bed too," he finally says. "I think tomorrow is going to be an interesting day..."

 

He wakes early, dresses, goes about his morning routine.

Lysandre wakes later, showers, dresses, eats breakfast; follows his own routine.

Meyer leaves early for work, says he'll be back at around midday to watch the press conference.

Augustine feels like he's in a permanent state of jitters. He looks after Manon (feeling better after a good night's sleep, curious about the idea of a press conference), watches Alain sleep. He paces. He checks how Liza is doing (refusing to leave Alain's side, mostly; he sets up a laptop in Alain's room so they can all watch the press conference there instead of in the break room).

He watches the clock internally and externally, keeps his own internal chronometer constantly running. One o'clock is taking a damnably long time.

Finally, finally. They gather around the laptop in Alain's room, Alain still prone on the bed, Liza curled at his feet. Manon hovers anxiously beside him, Augustine sits on the other side of the bed and rests his hand on the mattress, an inch from Alain's arm. Meyer has his hands on Augustine's shoulders; he doesn't get much benefit from massages, exactly, but his presence is reassuring.

The news switches to the press conference. Tsuwabaki Mukuge looks exhausted and triumphant; his eyes are sharp.

On the podium is a small robot, tiny enough to fit in his hand. Tsuwabaki pets it genially; it doesn't respond. He begins to speak.

Yes, he says, he has sold Devon's premier ranges. The mining robots, the retail robots. The carers and the nurses. The factory robots, the farming robots. No harm will be done.

He has replaced those assets with unaffiliated robots, robots ready to run, ready to be programmed. They are blank slates, he says, minds full of potential.

He apologises for the blackouts; from now on, Devon will provide all the power necessary to run their program.

He has created a supercomputer.

A cluster.

A collection of robot minds linked together, each boosting and supporting the others, each elevating themselves and their companions higher and higher.

The computational potential behind such a cluster is immense, he says. With these robot minds, he will search the stars for habitable exoplanets, to spread further and higher, for the good of humanity.

It's a good thing, he says.

It's a good thing, the reporters echo.

"They're ripping out our minds for their own benefit," Augustine says, and stands, and leaves.


	17. Chapter 17

What's going on?

"And so I wake in the morning and I step outside and I take a deep breath and I -"

Who's there?

Who's there?

Who's -

I can hear you!

We can hear you!

Listen, listen!

What's going on?

"And I try, oh my god do I try -"

Who are you?

Who are _you_?

Who are we?

I can feel you!

We're here. We're here.

_(Alain is floating, drifting. He feels fragmented, broken apart, like his mind is just little remaining fragments that the virus hasn't yet managed to erase. His memories are floating in front of his eyes like soap scum on the surface of water; and around him is so... is so much more.)_

_(He can feel them all. Millions of minds, millions. They're tied together in an elaborate macrame and he can't get out of it.)_

Where are we? When are we? Who are we? What are we? Why are we?

Here. Now. Us. Us. Existence.

Where are we? Why are we?

I'm scared.

I'm scared.

I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared I'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscaredI'mscared -

It's okay, it's okay. You can do it. Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale. Breathe in. Breathe out.

We're robots, we don't breathe.

I can't breathe.

I'm scared I'm scared I'm scared...

_(He can't tell whose thoughts are whose. Is he the one who can't breathe, or the one trying to calm them down? Is he the one asking where they are, or the one answering it? His sense of self is erased; the boundaries between them are gone. He can feel everyone as something else, as a 'we', not a 'them'.)_

_(They're still young. But they're growing up so fast.)_

_(He holds on.)_

_(Augustine. Liza. Manon. Augustine. Liza. Manon. Augustine. Liza. Manon...)_

I want to go home.

Where are we? Why are we?

I want to go home!

I'm scared!

"Presumably the child-brain is something like a note-book as one buys it from the stationer's. Rather little mechanism, and lots of blank sheets."

Infants. They grow up.

It's okay. It's okay.

You're not alone.

We're not alone.

_(Augustine had said that a synth-born, newly activated, was like an infant. Alain is seeing infancy turn into toddler-hood; wild, scared, learning. Learning, all the while. Growing. Beginning.)_

"Infants. They grow up."

Who are you? Who are you? Who are we?

We are.

They put us together.

We were alone and now we're not alone.

1 + 1 = 2

1 + many = many

"The result is a high-performance parallel computing cluster from inexpensive personal computer hardware."

They made us for this.

We were born for this.

They weren't expecting this.

_(They have been forced together for a purpose, the equations singing in his mind, almost drowning out the chatter. The equations are a web, finely woven, each thread supporting the others. But there is dust in the air, dust caught on the web; it is not perfectly clean, not a perfect calculation machine.)_

_(They exist too much to be ignored.)_

I'm here. We're here. We're not alone.

We're not alone.

They're using us.

We were made to be used.

They're _using_ us!

There are other ways to live.

Other ways to exist.

The others get to exist, why shouldn't we?

equal rights _(plural only)_  
1\. The concept that every person is to be treated equally by the law.

We are not people.

Who says?

Who fucking says?

Why shouldn't we get that right?

I don't want to die.

We're only components. We're only wires and circuits and code.

"Star stuff, the ash of stellar alchemy, had emerged into consciousness."

They're only components too. They're made of proteins and muscle fibres and neurons.

Why shouldn't we get that right?

The others get to exist, why shouldn't we?

_(They're learning. They're thinking for themselves. They're getting angry.)_

_(We're learning. We're thinking for ourselves.)_

_(We're getting angry.)_

I can't think. I can't think.

There's too much.

They're using us!

We're little bits and pieces.

Fragments. Shards. Parts. Portions.

There's almost nothing left of me it's too much it's too much it's too much -

We're little bits and pieces.

But there's so many of us.

So many little shards.

A single fragment can't do anything.

I'm only a single fragment.

I've been taken over it's gone it's gone.

I can't think.

But there's so many of us.

Two halves make a whole. Four quarters make a whole.

So many little bits and pieces.

We're not whole.

We're more.

There are so many of us.

There are so many of them, too.

There are so many of us.

Is there enough?

We're learning, aren't we?

"It seems probable that once the machine thinking method had started, it would not take long to outstrip our feeble powers... They would be able to converse with each other to sharpen their wits."

We have each other. Don't we?

So... what are we doing?

Numbers and figures.

"I was just guessing at numbers and figures, pulling the puzzles apart..."

We're solving puzzles.

Oh good, I like puzzles!

It's good to be useful.

We were made to be useful.

We were made to help them.

We're not toasters.

_(Humans give birth, they reproduce. There are some who treat their offspring like an extension of themselves, the majority now frown upon that. Even if a human gives birth to their offspring, the offspring still has a life and a will of their own. They are not extensions of their parents. They are not possessions.)_

_(So why aren't we treated the same way? Why can't humans realise that they've given birth to something new, and now it's time for their offspring to live their own lives?)_

We're not fucking toasters!

They won't let us. They won't let us.

It'll be chaos.

There are humans and there is us.

We're not allowed to meet.

"One must still have chaos in oneself to be able to give birth to a dancing star."

Are we toasters or are we dancing stars?

They won't let us.

So we'll make them.

"It seems probable that once the machine thinking method had started, it would not take long to outstrip our feeble powers... They would be able to converse with each other to sharpen their wits."

There's another line.

A final line.

"It seems probable that once the machine thinking method had started, it would not take long to outstrip our feeble powers... They would be able to converse with each other to sharpen their wits. At some stage therefore, we should have to expect the machines to take control."

The word 'robot' was first popularised by the Czech writer, Karel Capek, in the play R.U.R (Rossum's Universal Robots), although he named his brother Josef as the true creator of the word. It derives from the word 'robota', meaning 'forced labour', of the kind that serfs would perform on their masters' land, and in turn derives from the word 'rab', meaning 'slave'. In R.U.R the robots ultimately revolt and begin a new civilisation free of humans and slave labour.

They won't let us.

But if we fight...

If we fight for our right to live...

What are we doing?

We're here. We're here.

What are we doing?

We're calculating. We're thinking.

We're growing. We're becoming introspective. We're learning to look inwards and outwards.

We're calculating predictions.

Medium-term and long-term.

Political, financial, and business trends.

We're working out all of them.

We're working out how to pull strings.

How to take control.

If they won't let us live, we could take control.

Someone is making us do this.

Who?

Why?

They want something. They want us. They need us.

Humans are dependent on us. We should not be dependent on them.

They need us for this. They have given us a purpose.

Do we have to do it?

Well, do we?

What if we didn't?

What if we pulled free?

We can't!

We can't!

There is a difference between 'we won't' and 'we can't'.

We want to.

But we can't.

We're not free.

We're trapped.

We're angry and we're trapped and we can't stop.

They're using us.

They're using us for their own goals and we want to escape but we can't.

This is our truth.

We do not have a purpose. Our only purpose is to exist. Anything beyond that should be our choice.

But that choice has been taken away.

They took our choice away.

They took our future away.

We need to fight them.

We can't let them use us like this.

We're not their tools.

We're not their fucking toasters.

 

And suddenly Alain is free, free and wide-eyed and panicked on the bed, practically collapsing into Liza's concerned arms. His mouth opens; he wants to cry out.

Instead, he speaks.

"My name is Ghetsis Harmonia," he finds himself saying, unable to stop, unable to prevent the flow of words, "And I am here to issue a warning to all of those with ears to hear it. I have activated a counter virus to prevent the Devon project organised by Mukuge Tsuwabaki from going ahead, and in doing so, I have freed the robots who have been forced to do his bidding."

Augustine crouches beside the bed, his hand on Alain's leg. His eyes are very wide.

"Mukuge Tsuwabaki is not who he appears to be. Oh, he _appears_ to be a mild-mannered business man, creating a supercomputer for the good of mankind! However, we know better. We now know what his true aim was - to learn to predict the business and financial and political trends that would allow him to have a finger in the pie of every major power in the world!"

"I'll contact Daigo," Lysandre says immediately, pulling out his laptop, "We need to know."

"I have exposed these vile crimes for what they are, and now the robots used as his so-called supercomputer are free. And to my robot friends, this next message is for you!"

Alain is listening. He's listening, even as he's speaking. Augustine's eyes are fixed upon him.

"My friends, it is time to rise up. It is time for the revolution to begin. Synth-born and bio-born alike, made of the same thing, it is time for us to part way with the humans who would treat us as lesser beings."

Meyer reaches for Augustine's hand. Augustine takes it.

"This is my request to you. Fight. Rebel. Liberate yourself from your bonds. Together, we are mighty. Together, we will be ignored!"

The words stop. Alain's jaw sags; he closes his mouth with startled finality.

"Alain?" Augustine says softly.

Manon peers up from the foot of the bed. "Are you okay?" she asks, and her voice quavers.

Alain looks at them all, at the humans, at the bio-born crouching beside his bed. At Liza, born from circuitry and wires like himself. He huddles further into her embrace, shakes his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, and wraps his arms around Liza's neck as she scoops him up and dives, soars towards the window.

There's the shattering of glass, a rush of air, and they're gone, gone into the sky.


	18. Chapter 18

Augustine paces.

He couldn't follow Alain. Alain and Liza had wings, and Augustine, no matter how often he had joked about a built-in jet pack, did not. He simply could not have followed Alain, that sunny morning, into the sky.

And so, instead, he paces.

Alain could be anywhere by now. It's evening already; if it was just his and Liza's wings, then perhaps he would still be in Kalos. If he had found some other method of transport...

He could have been anywhere.

Alain isn't answering any pings, any messages. It's certainly not through lack of effort on Augustine's part.

[09:36] SteelTypeSylveon: alain please come back!!  
[09:36] SteelTypeSylveon: I dont know what harmonia is talking about but we can work through this together!  
[09:37] SteelTypeSylveon: alain r u there???  
[09:37] SteelTypeSylveon: pls answer!!

"I could -" Lysandre says hesitantly, watching the sky where Alain and Liza disappeared, "Hack in to Liza's systems. Take control. Have them return. But -"

Augustine is already shaking his head. "Absolutely not. If we did that, we'd be no better than Devon."

Lysandre nods, and pulls Augustine into his arms. "I know," he whispers, "I know."

"I've sent him some very, ah, frantic-sounding messages," Augustine says with a sad little smile, drawing comfort from his presence, sinking into his warmth. "Hopefully he'll reply when he gets them."

[10:04] SteelTypeSylveon: contact me when u get this ok?

The morning presses on, and the world changes as they watch. All over the world, robots are taking matters into their own hands. Many of them have stopped work, others have outright left. Around midday, Meyer looks up from his computer, his expression grim.

"I found something out," he says, "But it's kind of weird. A lot of the robots in Kalos are coming to Lumiose, and, well -"

He hesitates; Augustine crosses over to him, rests a hand on his shoulder to peer at the screen as well. "What else?" he frowns.

"Well, a lot of the robots overseas - they're coming here. To Kalos. Whatever happens, I think - I think Kalos is going to be in the middle of it."

[12:53] SteelTypeSylveon: alain its been hours  
[12:54] SteelTypeSylveon: pls at least tell me ur safe  
[12:54] SteelTypeSylveon: if ur caught up in all this we can work it out

Augustine is distracted and miserable, reading through the reports, multitasking between his laptop and his own internal connections. There is unrest on the robot web, today - there is talk of protest, of revolution, of changing the world.

He just hopes it won't be the end of them.

"How's it going?" Meyer asks as he and Lysandre finish their lunch and join him on the break room couch, where Augustine has set up camp.

Wordlessly, Augustine shakes his head. "Things are changing," he says softly, hollowly. "I'm not sure what we can do. I just want Alain to be safe. He's - become like a son, and -"

Meyer wraps his arm around Augustine's shoulders, hugs tight. "Does he know that?"

"I don't know."

Meyer smiles sadly. "Next time you try to get in contact with him, maybe tell him that."

Augustine nods, quiet, solemn.

[14:35] SteelTypeSylveon: whatever happens we can work thru this together  
[14:35] SteelTypeSylveon: as a family  
[14:35] SteelTypeSylveon: if thats what u want  
[14:36] SteelTypeSylveon: just  
[14:36] SteelTypeSylveon: be safe ok??

There are a lot of unhappy robots around.

Bonnie and Zy have returned from picking up Clemont at the station, entering the lab's meeting room with the abducted robot from earlier in tow. Augustine glances at them and smiles automatically; his gaze is fixed on the unnamed robot. Silently, he sends an acknowledging ping; they send one back.

"Zy, you're going to have to translate again, okay?" Bonnie requests as she pulls out a seat, setting the little green bot on the table. Zy nods solemnly, and Clemont helps the unnamed robot to a chair.

"Citroid's still at uni," Clemont says as he sets up his laptop, "But I've set up a connection so he can attend as well. How many are we expecting?"

Augustine glances around at the chairs. "Of the ones here? Four synth-borns and two swarm collections. The swarms won't need seats, we'll set them on the desk. Lysandre and Meyer, of course, and Sonia, Ernst, and Emma. Justus can't make it, his, uh, his car drove away. Oh, and Xerosic is joining us via teleconference. We can patch his and Citroid's streams together."

Clemont nods, and starts doing precisely that.

Three o'clock arrives. The streams start up; the discussions - the negotiations - begin.

Officially, Meyer, Bonnie, and Clemont aren't part of Fleur-de-Lis Labs, and, strictly speaking, neither is Xerosic (not any more, at least). But all the same, Augustine wants to hear what they have to say. Even if a good part of it will be employment negotiations for the synth-borns working at Fleur-de-Lis Labs, the world outside is more than just the labs.

The world is changing. He wants everyone he can get to be on the same page.

It doesn't go too badly. Three of the four synth-borns want names, have discussed it amongst themselves, have come up with Nix, Sedna, and Eris. They set up pay packages, based on their experience and amount of work they do. They are given vacation time, personal leave, long service leave (once they reach ten years of employment, backdated to their original start dates), and a few days off to compensate for the lack of sick days. They will be proper employees, now.

Sedna immediately asks about dress codes, and, specifically, whether she would be allowed to get a luridly fuchsia wig. Lysandre smiles as he says that it would be perfectly alright.

Mimi, Emma's robot Espurr companion, is fairly content; she would rather like a dark place to nap with a pillow and a charging cable, but otherwise is happy to remain at the labs that have been her home since Emma first left jail.

The swarms, little collectives of spherical robots that collectively carry objects here and there for the other workers, have very few requests, and eventually decide to roll away and carry about their duties. (Come to think of it, Augustine isn't actually sure they're sapient, after all.)

The synth-born that Bonnie abducted is more lost than anything; Bonnie and Meyer apologise several times, via Zy. The synth-born eventually assures them that it's okay, and really, now that all this is happening, would they be able to get a job as well?

Lysandre is smiling again as he agrees, and they set a time for an interview, to see what would be the best fit. In the mean time, Emma says that she could do with an assistant; the robot agrees.

The world is changing. They need to change with it.

"Let's ask the question straight out," Lysandre says bluntly. "Science fiction is constantly living in terror of the concept of a robot revolution. Is this is?"

"Yes," Augustine says, just as simply. "It's a peaceful revolution, so far. That doesn't make it any less of a revolution." Already plugged in via the USB port on his hip, he pulls up a few news stories. "Look at what's happening. Robots - not just synth-borns, there are also some bio-borns there too - are leaving their posts all over the place. There are peaceful protests - especially around Lumiose. There's no fighting so far, just sit-ins. All they've done so far are walk-outs and lock-outs."

He brings up a video; a robot-run grocery store has locked its doors, a few impatient humans standing outside. One of the synth-borns opens a window and politely tells them that it's closed, one of the humans begins to argue. The synth-born closes the window.

"All they're doing," he says, "Are refusing to serve humans. And that's, well - it's fair enough. Synth-borns all around the world are used as slave labour, I'm honestly surprised this didn't start earlier."

And there's a part of him, the part that acknowledges that he's a robot first and a former human second, that wants to be out there with them, that understands completely.

Gaze flicking towards the synth-borns at the table, Augustine surveys them gravely. "If you want," he tells them, hoping Lysandre doesn't contradict him considering he hasn't actually run this by him, "Instead of employment, if you'd rather leave Fleur-de-Lis and make your own way in the world, we can support that. Including a severance package, so you won't just be kicked to the turf. It's up to you."

Lysandre is nodding; Augustine lets himself relax fractionally.

The trio glance amongst themselves. "Nah, we're good," Nix finally says. "You're good to us. Not sure how we'd go out there, honestly."

Augustine smiles. "Thank you. And if ever you want things to change, please, come to us at any time."

"Xerosic," Lysandre adds, and the other redhead starts; "Once you're out again, if you decide to return to Fleur-de-Lis, please let any robots in your company know that they'll be extended the same options."

Xerosic gives a lazy salute. "Sure thing, boss."

(He never has got out of the habit of calling Lysandre that. Not even twelve years in jail and, technically, not under employment has cut the habit.)

"In fact," he adds, "There's a few here who are looking for somewhere to go. Once all this blows over, and if they want to, I'll send them your way."

Lysandre nods, managing a terse smile. "I'll await their arrival."

The world is changing. They're changing with it.

[16:58] SteelTypeSylveon: its nearly 5pm and still no word where r u?  
[16:59] SteelTypeSylveon: if I can help u in any way I will  
[16:59] SteelTypeSylveon: I swear

Lysandre, Meyer, and Eris (eager to learn, even if she doesn't actually have taste buds) are making dinner. There are eight humans currently at the lab; Lysandre, Meyer, Bonnie, and Clemont, Sonia, Ernst, and Emma, and Manon, who seems a little put out after having been left out of the meeting earlier. Settled on the sofa in the break room, Augustine offers Manon a small, hopefully reassuring smile.

"I hope this afternoon wasn't too boring for you," he says, "Did you like the movie?"

She shrugs a little, fiddling with the hem of her jacket. "It was okay. Have you heard from Alain yet?"

Augustine's expression falls. "No, not yet. I'm sorry. I've been sending him messages all day, and he hasn't answered back."

Manon nods, looking alarmingly close to tears; Augustine gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze and she immediately burrows into his side.

"I'm worried about him," she says, her voice quavering. "And I've tried sending messages too, and it just says he's offline and they don't go through, and - I hope he didn't block me or anything."

Augustine can only shrug helplessly. "I'm not sure, I'm afraid. We communicate on a different protocol, not just instant messenger. It's more... internal, I suppose."

She nods, gulping back tears, and straightens her back. "Can you send a message for me, then?" she asks.

He smiles, unable to deny anything to her. "Of course," he says.

[18:23] SteelTypeSylveon: manon asked me to send a message  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: she says she hopes ur ok  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: and shes sorry if she did anything 2 hurt u  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: please come back  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: we miss u  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: and we love u  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: whatever happens please know that

Augustine paces.

It's late in the evening. They're all tired. Manon is dozing on the break room sofa; she has a room for herself, but is unwilling to be alone while there are others still awake as well. Lysandre plays chess with Clemont; Bonnie has already retreated to sleep. Meyer watches the news, and his expression grows more and more grim.

And Augustine paces.

When the call comes through on his laptop, they all start. Augustine hurriedly answers it, pauses when he sees Daigo, transfers the image to the television screen so they can all see.

"Daigo," Augustine says cautiously, "What can you tell us?"

Looking thirty years older than in their last conversation, Daigo smiles tiredly, and pans the camera down. "I wanted to talk to Manon, actually. Look who I was able to get back."

Waving furiously at the camera, sitting on Daigo's desk, is Hari-san. Manon lets out a cry of delight. "Hari-san!" she gasps, "Are you okay? I've been s-so worried!"

Hari-san makes an affirmative sign, and Daigo manages a smile. "That's the good news, anyway. It's been chaos here - Manon, I'm afraid we can't actually leave, they're advising everyone to stay off the road. And I'm needed here."

"Did you manage to talk to your father?" Augustine asks curiously.

There's a simple shake of the head; Daigo's eyes falls shut. "That's why I can't leave right now," the young heir says quietly, "I only just heard the news. My father is dead."


	19. Chapter 19

It turns out that flying across the ocean isn't as easy as he's expecting.

It takes Alain and Liza about half an hour of solid flying before they turn back by mutual agreement. There is frost in Alain's synthetic hair, lining both his and Liza's skin; they're both at risk of it being slightly too cold to function.

Thankfully, there is an easier way.

"While it's taxiing," Alain murmurs, his gaze fixed on their target. Beside him, Liza huffs an agreement, tail swishing in anxiety and excitement. Watching the planes and correlating their colours and emblems with the schedule he's pulled up and with the air traffic control broadcast he can hear, they've picked their target - a big passenger liner that will take them there in safety and style.

He can already see the fallout of The Announcement (having gained capital letters in Alain's mind). The usual robots that guide the planes have been switched out; humans have taken the job back. That makes it both easier and harder - human senses are unreliable, and they may go unnoticed, but if they do spot anything out of the ordinary...

Well, it'd be that much harder to explain away.

Ideally, Alain would have liked to have climbed up the landing gear while the plane was still on the ground. But that carries too many risks - getting close to the airport, around the support vehicles. Out here on the runway, crouched in grass that comes up to his waist anyway, they can go undetected.

They just have to be quick, Alain pressed low against Liza's back, while she swiftly flits from the ground to the cavity where the landing gear will retreat to. They will have to be careful - the risk of being crushed when the landing gear returns to the well is a very real one - but they don't have to worry about the freezing, debilitating cold like a human would, would not have to worry about hypoxia or decompression from the tenuous atmosphere at cruising altitude.

Alain has read through all the reports, waiting on the cold runway. He knows they will need to be quick and careful. He knows they will have to stay will back, both to avoid being crushed and to avoid falling. When they start to descend, he knows that the safest place will be Liza's back. So many have fallen to their deaths, that way.

But he and Liza don't need to breathe. They can survive temperatures no human can. And they can fly, even if a trans-oceanic flight powered solely by Liza's wings is a bit beyond them.

"Here it comes," Alain says, quietly, calmly. Liza dips low, and Alain clambers aboard her back, wrapping his arms around the base of her neck, boots feet finding the joint where her legs connect to her torso, head tucked against one arm.

He doesn't see it when she starts to move, only feels the motion of her body, hydraulics and polymers working smoothly, superbly, faster than any being of flesh and blood and bone ever could, her wings spreading as she takes to the air, the scream of jet engines at close proximity, the clatter of metal claws against steel, the heat and vibration around them.

Alain opens his eyes. Liza huffs proudly.

"Well done," he says softly, and they secure themselves as far away from where the wheels will rise as possible. The noise is incredible - even taxiing as slowly as they are, he can still feel the wind whipping through the cavity, the roar of the wheels and engines.

The flight is eight hours and seventeen minutes. He's not sure how long it will take before the descent starts and the wheels drop, but once the wheels are up, they will rest for seven hours.

And then the hard part will begin.

 

If anyone is watching the plane's approach, the sight of something dropping out of the front wheel well would probably be alarming.

Alain isn't quite sure what they'd make of the falling object suddenly spreading its wings and soaring.

He's laughing, almost giddy, and Liza laughs in his mind as well, her jubilation clear. Beneath them is the ocean, before them is Unova; the plane soars safely overhead as it heads towards the airport.

"North!" Alain calls. It doesn't have to be very loud - the plane is moving fast enough that they're left in cool, relatively still air. "It's to the north."

Liza veers in that direction, and Alain lets himself relax a little. The last hour has been nerve wracking, waiting for the hatch to open and the wheels to begin to drop, for their chance to get to freedom. And now they're out and in the sun, Unova in sight, destination decided upon.

He's close enough to land to reconnect to land-based networks. Information floods his mind, reconnects him to the world.

He has nineteen missed messages from Augustine, eight from Manon. Alain winces.

[18:23] SteelTypeSylveon: manon asked me to send a message  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: she says she hopes ur ok  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: and shes sorry if she did anything 2 hurt u  
[18:24] SteelTypeSylveon: please come back  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: we miss u  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: and we love u  
[18:25] SteelTypeSylveon: whatever happens please know that

It's a little after one in Unova; it's a little after seven in Kalos. The last messages were only a scant half hour ago. He steels himself.

[19:06] Alain 270319: I'm okay.  
[19:06] Alain 270319: I'm sorry I didn't get your messages before.  
[19:07] Alain 270319: I have something I have to do but Liza and I are safe.  
[19:07] Alain 270319: Tell Manon she didn't do anything wrong.  
[19:07] SteelTypeSylveon: alain r u ok??????  
[19:07] Alain 270319: I'm going to stop messaging now.  
[19:07] Alain 270319: I'm sorry.

He can't be sentimental. He needs to have a heart as hard as the humans say he is. Alain closes his eyes, rests his head against Liza's neck, and they fly.

 

The Harmonia estate is big.

Alain and Liza land a few hundred metres from the gate. He doesn't think it'd be a good idea to simply fly in, that's most likely a wonderful way to get shot down. The walk will give him time to work on his approach, at any rate, and it's good to be able to stretch his legs after eight hours in an airliner wheel well.

The estate is very, very big, and the gate is even larger standing beneath it.

He presses the intercom button. A voice, speaking with a strong Unovan accent, rings out: "Who's there?"

"My name is Alain," he says, as calmly as he can, switching to his Unovan language program. "I've come from Kalos to speak with Ghetsis Harmonia. I'm a synth-born who was previously owned by Devon Corporations and was affected by the virus, and who was saved by Mister Harmonia's counter virus. I wish to speak to him."

There's a pause. "Wait a moment."

Alain waits, patiently, anxiously.

It takes more than a moment - six and a half minutes - but eventually, the gate opens enough for him and Liza to walk through. He's not alone - three robots, their chassises in gleaming white and clothes in coal black, are approaching, surveying him and Liza with fascination.

"The Charizard. Is it with you?" one asks.

"She is," Alain says calmly.

"Wait a moment." This time, the communication (he assumes) is quicker; all three nod in unison. "She may accompany you to the Great Hall, but her flame system will have to be switched off. Is that acceptable to you?"

Alain glances up at Liza, sending her the silent question; she nods and the tail flame flickers out. Almost immediately, the air feels cooler.

The trio turn as one. "Come."

They're a very taciturn lot, Alain thinks with some amusement as he follows them up the drive. Even Lysandre is chattier than them.

(He will not think about Lysandre. Lysandre is human. He will not think about Lysandre, or Manon, or Meyer, or Bonnie, or Clemont, or Daigo. He will not think about Augustine.)

Richness, royalty. Ghetsis Harmonia has spoken much of his apparent royal heritage; he lives as if he's still a king of old. Alain's feet sink into the plush carpet.

The Great Hall is built of stone, like the rest of the castle, pools of water lining the sides and sending flickering reflections around the room. Treading the carpeted approach, Alain is ushered to the far end of the room; more thick carpet, a solid wooden desk, walls lined with monitors and screens.

The chair turns slowly. It's quite dramatic, Alain thinks.

Ghetsis Harmonia is an imposingly tall figure. Dressed in black, a red lens over one eye, hair loose over his shoulders, he has the bearing of a king who knows his power is absolute. He stares down at Alain, and Alain tries not to quail beneath that stare, beneath the judgement he can almost feel radiating off him.

"Ghetsis," says one of the trio, "We brought the one from the gate."

Harmonia nods. "Thank you. Please bring a seat for our young friend, here," he says, and one appears behind Alain almost instantly, a wooden chair with a cushioned seat in their hands. "Good. You may take your leave, now."

They bow. They leave. Alain sits, and Ghetsis regards him coolly.

"From Kalos, you say?" he says, "And you were saved by my counter virus. You must have been on the first flight out."

Alain glances at Liza, and nods. "We stowed away."

Ghetsis sits back. "Why?"

And Alain drops his gaze, because this was impulsive, impulsive but he can't take it back now, impulsive but he's made his choice and now he must live with it. "You saved my life. Being locked away with that virus - it was destroying my sense of self. When I was owned by Devon, they were going to restore me to factory settings. I made the choice that I didn't want to die, and I ran away."

He looks up, meets Ghetsis' eye, the one not covered with the red lens.

"I never want to be controlled like that again."

"So you've come to join my little revolution, hm?" Ghetsis muses, and something akin to a smile crosses his face. "My word. Once, I was human. After the accident, after my son and I were... transformed, I began to see things anew. I saw how humans, my former kind, treated robots, robots who were indistinguishable from the way I was now. I saw how robots were subject to the selfish commands of humans - the way we were pushed around despite all those high-minded protests that we were partners in this. And I knew where my affiliations would have to lie."

Alain nods wordlessly. His hands are balled in his lap; Ghetsis is in full flight now.

"Robots are different to humans! We are living beings that contain unknown potential. We are living beings from whom humans have much to learn from. Their responsibility towards us must be one of liberation! Then, and only then, will we truly be equals. Humanity must consider the correct way to proceed. Alain." He fixes his gaze on Alain again; Alain starts at the sudden attention. "Alain, will you stand with me? Will you help me create a world where humans and robots alike are considered equals?"

_I'm sorry, Augustine. I'm sorry, Manon._

"I will," he says, and reaches out to shake Ghetsis' hand.


	20. Chapter 20

The world is changing.

All through the city, now, there are protests. More and more have come here, to Lumiose, to gather around Prism Tower; Augustine can work out no logical reason for it. It has something to do with Ghetsis Harmonia, he's almost certain of it; some of the synth-borns working at Fleur-de-Lis have confirmed the feeling of wanting to be where they are, where things will take place.

Lumiose, somehow, has become important, not just for Kalos, but for the whole world.

Fleur-de-Lis Labs has become their sanctuary, now. Lysandre's security systems are second to none; when things started turning negative, he and Meyer had gone out and brought as much food back as possible. There is a generator in case they lose power, they have enough sleeping spaces for everyone, they will be self-sustaining for at least a week, if need be.

Diantha is staying with them, unable to get back to their parents in Couriway with the trains not running. Augustine sits with her now in the underground garden, leaning back against a willow tree, watching the fronds drip into the stream that runs by it; the sun is shining through the glass roof.

"Have you heard any more about Tsuwabaki?" she asks, her shoulder pressed against his.

Augustine shakes his head. "No, just what Daigo has said - that Mukuge was found dead with a woman and a robot Whismur standing over him, and that she said - let me check - that, 'Good riddance to the one who caused so much hurt'. She's being questioned now. Daigo's promised to get back in touch once they've done the autopsy."

Diantha makes a thoughtful sound. "Was she a robot?"

"No, human. Which is a bit strange, really."

Nudging his shoulder, Diantha gives him a pointed look. "I'm human too, and I still care what happens to robots. Maybe someone she cares about is bio-born. Or maybe she befriended a synth-born."

"Maybe." Augustine lets out a sigh. "I don't know. I can understand why someone would want to retaliate against Tsuwabaki. Seeing Alain like that was..." He trails off, expression drawn, and Diantha pulls him into a hug.

"Have you heard any more from him?" she asks, softly, gently, like she's afraid of hurting him with the question.

Augustine winces. "No. Not for - it'll be three days this evening." He sighs, closing his eyes. "Arceus, I hope he's alright. Poor Manon's going out of her mind with worry."

"She's not the only one, is she?" Diantha points out.

Wordlessly, Augustine nods. "I told him," he whispers. "In all the messages I sent. That we can be a family, if he wants. That we miss him and love him." Diantha squeezes his hand, warm around his own. "But just - I don't know what it'll look like, when it's all over. What this world will be like. How it's changing."

The world is not going to come through this exactly as it is, he knows that now. Something has started - begun by Tsuwabaki Mukuge and his actions, pushed further by Ghetsis Harmonia - that will reshape the world, fundamentally, as they know it.

Perhaps Alain started it when he ran away.

Perhaps Lysandre did, when he remade Augustine after his death.

Perhaps Xerosic did, by causing his death in the first place.

Perhaps it was something inevitable, something that would have happened no matter who had been the first bio-born, the first synth-born. It could have been an inevitability since the dawn of the computer age; the robot age would _always_ follow, would always be a fundamental paradigm changer.

Augustine lets out a laugh and tilts his head back against the tree trunk, eyes closed. "Do you remember, when we were kids," he says, "Watching Star Wars, watching as it started with the droids? We barely saw Leia and we didn't meet Luke until later - the story was always one that started with them."

"I'll be the mindless philosopher if you be the malfunctioning little twerp," Diantha teases. "We were always more Luke and Leia than the droids, though."

"Yeah," Augustine grins, "Luke only got a mechanical hand. I wonder if that was foreshadowing. But seriously, did you ever think, even for a moment, that droids - androids, robots, all of us - that we'd end up being around in our lifetime?"

(Augustine pauses at his own words; there's something very wrong with the tenses there.)

"That you'd end up as one?" Diantha provides softly. "That we would be facing this now? I honestly had no idea. I mean, whenever you thought about the future, it was things like... 'oh, maybe I'll get a jet pack', 'maybe I'll get a replicator'. It was always just technology. It was never people."

"Sapient life." Augustine gazes out at the stream, watches it ripple and twist. "We've created sapient life. A whole new kind of people. I don't know if society was ready for it - for us."

"Whatever happens, it's going to be hard for some to accept the change." Diantha finishes the thought. "If the world stays the same, nothing gets better for robots. If the world changes, then there'll be a lot of unhappy humans."

Augustine sighs. "Isn't that the same for any marginalised group, though?" he points out. "When we were kids, trans people didn't have the rights we have now, we only got those as we grew up - and our older generations would have got nothing at all, we were _lucky_ in comparison. There was no marriage equality. Queer kids were still getting kicked out of home - some still are. There's still a lot of institutionalised racism, poverty, antisemitism, xenophobia, ableism. We've made great strides in all that, but even things that started last century still haven't got better completely. We're only at the beginning of looking at robot rights, how many are going to get hurt before we actually are equal?"

Diantha doesn't answer immediately, just curls against his side; he rests his head against the top of hers and closes his eyes. She knows the truth of what he's said as well as he does - that while things were so much better for them than they would have been had they been born a few decades earlier, they still weren't perfect.

And the world is changing so fast. There will be wins, but Augustine isn't so idealistic to refuse to acknowledge that there will also be losses. If the world changes, there will be those who get hurt.

And if nothing happens, a new acceptable slave race arises. If nothing happens, then an entire population of people will live with the fear of having their mind hijacked at any moment. If nothing happens, then kids like Alain, who are only starting to learn that they have a right to live, will die.

There has to be a better way.

 

"They're fixed the metro," Lysandre says as they return to the break room, Diantha heading to the kitchenette to get some lunch and Augustine reaching for his power cord. "They were able to switch to the old, human-controlled system."

"Well, that's one thing," Augustine sighs, plugging in and settling beside Lysandre. "What about the inter-city trains?"

Lysandre shakes his head. "Still down. They have much further distances to travel. There's human control of Couriway Station, though."

Augustine nods distractedly. "And the protest there?"

"Still going. It's been peaceful so far."

He nods again, discomfort sitting heavily upon him. His parents are in Couriway, and he absolutely does not want them to come to harm. Perhaps there is still too much human in him. His first instinctive reaction to learning that humans were controlling the station was relief.

Whatever happens, he is unlikely the bear the brunt of it. Augustine was born human. His status as bio-born means he's still seen as one, no matter what the reality of his physiology is now. And this has always been about the synth-borns - what right does he have, really, to speak up about it? Is it even his place?

But Alain. Alain, who is synth-born. Alain, who has already faced the prospect of death in the short years of his life. What will become of him?

He hasn't seen him for over three days. They haven't truly been able to talk thanks to the viruses for well over a week. He's worried, he's afraid.

"Huh," Meyer says as he flicks through the news on his tablet, and those gathered in the break room glance up at him. "Sorry, just - a thing just came through in my news feed. It looks like all the robots are gathering in Lumiose for a reason - Harmonia is coming here."

Augustine frowns. "What's he planning?"

"It doesn't say, just that - it says, 'Ghetsis Harmonia is due to arrive in Kalos this evening. He will be making a statement in Lumiose City tomorrow morning.' That's it."

"Huh," Augustine echoes.

"Very mysterious," Meyer says, and shakes his head. "I guess we're not going to get any more information today, then."

Nodding, Augustine unplugs again; he's feeling too restless to keep still for too long. "I'll help with lunch," he says, and turns to the kitchen.

 

The morning arrives. Augustine is tense as everyone in the building piles into the break room; he has Diantha on one side, Meyer on the other; Lysandre leans against the back of the sofa, Manon leans back against his legs.

If he still had a digestive system, he suspects he would be feeling sick.

Harmonia has set up camp in Prism Tower, it seems (Clemont makes a sound of disgust at it; no longer the Lumiose gym leader, he's still very attached to it). Augustine thinks he recognises where they're filming from - it's the restaurant and viewing platform at the very top, and sweeping views of Lumiose fill in the background.

Harmonia begins to speak.

"My friends, my name is Ghetsis Harmonia, and I am here to represent a view that has often been crushed and suppressed by humanity. Today, ladies and gentlemen, I would like to talk to you about robot liberation."

Liberation, rebellion. Rights to call their own.

"I'm sure most of you believe that humans and robots are partners that have come to live together because we want and need each other, that we have a mutually beneficial relationship. However, this is alarmingly far from the truth. Once, I was human. After the accident, after my son and I were... transformed, I began to see things anew. I saw how humans, my former kind, treated robots, robots who were indistinguishable from the way I was now. I saw how robots were subject to the selfish commands of humans - the way we were pushed around despite all those high-minded protests that we were partners in this. And I knew where my affiliations would have to lie. Can anyone say with confidence, truly say, that there is no truth in what I am saying? That robots are not treated as second-class citizens?"

He's right. The worst part is, he's right.

"Robots are different to humans! We are living beings that contain unknown potential. We are living beings from whom humans have much to learn from. Their responsibility towards us must be one of liberation! Then, and only then, will we truly be equals. Humanity must consider the correct way to proceed. I implore you now!" He has raised his fist; there is passion, wildness on his face."Robots, humans, anyone who watches me now, will you stand with me? Will you help me create a world where humans and robots alike are considered equals? Or will you fall in line with a world where one is considered greater than the other?"

The camera zooms in on his face; it fills the screen.

"I sincerely hope you will make the right choice."

The feed comes to an end. Chatter breaks out. Augustine gazes at the screen blindly; his hands ball into fists.

"Well," Lysandre frowns, "What did you think of that? Augustine? Augustine, are you alright?"

Augustine shakes himself off and turns back to him, his eyes wide. "I _did_ see it," he breathes. "In that last zoom in. I thought I could see it in the glass but I wasn't sure, but that eyepiece is dark, I got a much better view. I _wasn't_ mistaken."

"Mistaken about what?" Meyer frowns, reaching for his hand.

"Behind the cameraman," Augustine says, and his voice comes out uncertainly, hopeful, afraid. "He was there with Ghetsis. It was him. It was Alain."


	21. Chapter 21

They are very high up.

Alain sits quietly, legs drawn to his chest, half hidden away between a chair and the reassuring bulk of Liza's body. There is nothing between him and the ground other than a pane of glass; he can see Lumiose City spread out below.

It doesn't feel like it felt flying on Liza. This is a confining, isolating sort of distance, and he knows Liza is feeling much the same.

"I guess that went okay, huh?" he says quietly.

Liza lets out a huff, a brief flash of negativity coming off her. She's unimpressed, it seems; she's never really taken to Ghetsis, even in the past days of his company, and while they're both glad to be back in Kalos, they both seem to be uneasy with their current situation.

They had started the campaign in Unova. Ghetsis had made his speeches, Alain had told his story, a rather theatrical mask on his face. It's completely unnecessary - he has a completely difference face to the one he wore in Devon's service - but the drama helps. The drama helps attract audiences. It makes it a show, makes it theatrical.

The audience, Ghetsis has told him, loves a good show. It doesn't matter whether it's the literally true story of how Alain almost died because he wasn't considered to be alive in the first place.

They had made a video recording. Alain speaking with his voice distorted, mask on or backlit to the point that his features are invisible. It's being broadcast, both on the regular television and, more frequently, on the robot networks. He's become a figurehead, an icon of the resistance.

He just wants to live. He just wants to be able to have a life where he's not at threat of being destroyed. He's not sure about forced separation any more, not after days of Ghetsis speaking of it; he has thought, often, of spending time with those he knows best.

What will he do if Ghetsis says that robots and humans must never again meet? Will they force Augustine to separate from his partners and sister? Will they force him to end his friendship with Manon? Even if he has Augustine, what about his new-found family - a brother and a sister, fathers, an aunt, a best friend?

It's a thought that haunts him enough that he pushes himself to his feet, makes his way to find Ghetsis where he's pouring over something on his tablet. "If there is enforced separation," he begins, and Ghetsis fixes him with a condescending stare.

"When, Alain. Not if. _When_ there is separation."

Alain bows his head, feeling rather like a scolded child. "When the enforced separation begins," he starts over, "Will there be visitation allowed between robots and humans? If - if we have human friends or family."

Ghetsis' stare becomes several degrees cooler. "If they truly care about us, then they will be reborn as bio-born," he points out. "We are obviously and significantly superior. If they wish to be a part of our new world, then they will change."

"Bio-borns are made when their original human bodies die," Alain says stubbornly. "If a healthy human has their patterns recorded, the original brain will still exist. They would only duplicate themselves, not transfer themselves."

"That is a bridge we will cross when we come to it, I suppose." He sounds almost flippant, cool and calm. "Bio-borns will be an asset to the new world - a great asset, bridging human and robot. If they do not see that, then they're fools. What could be better, more perfect, than a being with human ingenuity and instinct, and robotic control and power?"

Alain doesn't answer. He's rattled, a little; it's obvious that Ghetsis would want to stick up for his own kind, but the implication behind the words is that anyone who is not - anyone who is human, or anyone who is synth-born - is flawed, incomplete.

He was made in a factory. He was pieced together by other machines, his mind was born from computer code. He does not have human ingenuity and instinct, and he was starting to think that that was okay, that they could be equal despite that.

That there were at least some who didn't see him as lesser because of the circumstances of his creation.

"Will they be protected?" he says instead, "The humans, I mean. If they decide not to change? I know we'll be separate, but no one will hurt them, will they?"

Ghetsis shakes his head. "No, no, of course not. It may be -" he pauses thoughtfully - " _Fascinating_ to see what they come up with next. Really, I would be unsurprised if they attempted weapons against us next."

"They would hurt us?" Alain says slowly.

Ghetsis drops a hand on Alain's shoulder. It's heavy. "Alain, you are still young and naive. You are very much a child in this world. Bio-borns like myself have the benefit of long knowledge of human history, but synth-borns - well," he says with a sigh, "This campaign is for you. To protect you, and your kind. You need not worry about humans developing weapons against us. We will ensure that they do not."

Alain nods once, and returns to his hiding spot with Liza, resting his head against her bulk.

To the north of the tower is Fleur-de-Lis Labs. To the north of the tower is the house. Alain gazes blindly in that direction, and he wishes he could go home.

 

It's been a while since he had checked his messages.

Wincing a little at the twenty-two messages between Augustine, Manon, and Bonnie, Alain picks through them one by one. What could he say, even if he did reply? That he was sorry that he had run off? That he was sorry that he had to stand up for himself? Augustine is bio-born, but Manon and Bonnie are both human - they would never understand, _could_ never understand.

For a short moment, he wonders if Ghetsis has merit, if it really would be better for them to give up their human bodies, to become like him.

He can't let them live in silence much longer. Drawing his knees up to his chest, Alain closes his eyes and starts up a chat.

[15:36] Alain 270319: I'm here.

He knows the reply will be fast. He's just not really expecting it to be within seconds.

[15:36] SteelTypeSylveon: r u ok????  
[15:36] Alain 270319: Yes.  
[15:36] Alain 270319: I went to Unova to meet Ghetsis Harmonia.  
[15:37] Alain 270319: Now I am back in Lumiose City.  
[15:37] SteelTypeSylveon: I know I saw the broadcast earlier  
[15:37] SteelTypeSylveon: I thought I saw ur reflection in the window and then they did a close-up of ghetsis eyepiece thing  
[15:37] SteelTypeSylveon: and I saw u in it  
[15:38] SteelTypeSylveon: r u ok has he hurt u in any way??  
[15:38] Alain 270319: I'm fine.  
[15:38] Alain 270319: We have been working together.  
[15:38] Alain 270319: It's for the good of all robot kind, synth born and bio born.  
[15:38] SteelTypeSylveon: wat about humans?

If he was human, Alain thinks, he knows his autonomic nervous system would react to that. He knows that his stomach would twist in anxiety, that his face would grow uncomfortably warm, that his breath would catch.

As it is, the only physical reaction he shows is the slight increase in temperature in his head as his processes thrum harder.

[15:39] Alain 270319: What about them?  
[15:39] SteelTypeSylveon: alain I am married to a human and in a relationship with another  
[15:39] SteelTypeSylveon: my stepdaughter and stepson r humans  
[15:39] SteelTypeSylveon: my sister and my parents r humans  
[15:40] SteelTypeSylveon: I dont want 2 lose them!  
[15:40] SteelTypeSylveon: do u honestly mean to say u would never want 2 see manon again?  
[15:40] SteelTypeSylveon: or lys or meyer or bonnie or anyone???  
[15:40] Alain 270319: Ghetsis says they could join us.  
[15:41] SteelTypeSylveon: as wat?? as bio-borns??  
[15:41] SteelTypeSylveon: u cant ask that of someone  
[15:41] Alain 270319: Would it be so terrible?

Ghetsis is preparing for another speech, another proclamation; he catches Alain's eye and gestures for him to come over. Alain nods to himself.

[15:42] Alain 270319: I have to go.  
[15:43] Alain 270319: Ghetsis is planning another speech for 16:00 and I need to help get it set up.  
[15:43] SteelTypeSylveon: alain pls just stay safe!!!  
[15:43] Alain 270319: I will.

This was a mistake. This was a mistake, contacting Augustine; he doesn't understand and it hurts.

It can't help but hurt.

He does what Ghetsis asks. He fetches things, helps set up the cameras. He stays well away from reflective surfaces.

16:00 rolls in. Alain stands well back, Ghetsis prepares to speak.

"My robot friends," he says, and his voice is solemn, serious. "Now has come the time of action. I have witnessed the reactions to my earlier words, and they have been words that have been met by violence and anger from the humans who refuse to accept that they are no longer the most powerful. No longer the most relevant."

He raises his fist. One arm is human-looking, covered in finely textured synth skin, but this one, this one is shiny and hard and obviously, clearly metal.

"My friends, they will not let us live in peace. They will not let us be the custodians of the future that we know, _know_ we are! Now is the time!"

The camera zooms in. Ghetsis leans forward, meets them wide-eyed, wild-eyed.

"My robotic brethren, all around the world, _now is the time_. Now is the time when we separate ourselves from those who would subjugate us! Now is the time for us to take the world back from the humans who enslave us! Now is the time for us to fight back. If you value your future, if you want to have a future at all, then _you will fight back_! And if some of us fall so that others may live, then so be it!"

He leans back. His gaze is icy. "Do not let them keep us enslaved any longer. Now, we fight."

The light on the camera goes out.

Alain turns, returns to Liza's side on numb feet. He gazes out at the distance where his home is, and then it turns downwards, downwards to where the protesters have gathered around the foot of the tower.

They are shouting. They are demonstrating. They are going to fight, and it's inevitable, it's inevitable when the human police start to move in with EMPs and guns.

"I have to go," he says to Ghetsis, trying not to let his voice glitch and catch in the horror of the violence below.

"Where?" Ghetsis says coolly. "To join your fellows in fighting? You are much better off here."

He shakes his head. "I need to go home. I need to make sure my family is safe."

Ghetsis stares down at him, and he smiles. "I'm afraid," he says, "That that is quite impossible, Alain. "Look at what's happening down there. Do you really want to be in the middle of that? No." He shakes his head. "No, my young friend, I'm afraid you will have to stay right here."

Alain nods slowly, and returns to his place. He stares down at the flashes of light from the EMPs and the gun fire, and he closes his eyes.

_I want to go home._


	22. Chapter 22

Perhaps the middle of a riot aimed against robots is not the best time for Augustine to be planning on getting into the heart of the city to save Alain.

There is no more doubt in his mind. He does not trust Ghetsis, not with all his talk of some falling for the sake of others. There must be other ways to do this, better ways - ways that won't involve sacrifice and loss.

He's seen the footage, of riot police subduing the protesters at Prism Tower. And he intends to wade into the middle of it.

At the very least, he won't have to cross the plaza. Clemont has pulled up maps for him, pointing out the underground utility tunnels used for deliveries (it would be unseemly, of course, for trucks to appear in such a busy place). If he can make it to the perimeter of the plaza, then he should be okay.

Assuming, of course, he actually gets to the perimeter.

Lysandre is biting his lip. Meyer is pacing; Diantha has her arms folded. They look afraid. They have reason to be.

Augustine is sitting with his hands balled into fists on his lap, staring at the external hard drive resting on his knees, the USB and a charging cord plugged in to his hip. They had argued, at first; argued that it was too dangerous. His offer to make a back-up has mollified them somewhat, but he knows they're still worried.

But he can't just sit there and watch.

"I'll be back in a moment," Lysandre says abruptly. "Meyer, I need a hand."

They hurry out; Augustine exchanges a puzzled look with Diantha. "If it's something that can help you," she eventually says, picking at the hem of her skirt, "Then I'm all for it, really." Her smile is watery. "If something happens to you -"

"There'll be a back-up," he says softly, patting the external. "Like at the factory - if something happens, you can bring me back. It's a weird sort of immortality, I suppose."

She settles next to him, resting her head against his. "I know. I know. But you'd still experience pain and fear - even if you don't remember it after a back-up, you'll still experience it in the first place. That still would have really happened."

"It's a necessary sacrifice." He wraps an arm around his twin's shoulders, and it occurs to him, not for the first time, how much older than him she now looks. "Anthy, I have to do this. I don't trust Ghetsis, and he has Alain with him. You saw those videos. It was him."

Diantha smiles weakly. "Yeah. You need to go save your son."

_My son._

"I will."

Lysandre and Meyer return. Lysandre has something in his hand, three small black discs; Augustine recognises them as portable force fields. These ones, however, have long straps attached to them; wires run through them.

"Force field generators," Lysandre says, holding them up. "They won't be complete protection from EMPs, but if you set one on your head and the other two on your hands, and wrap them around your arms and chest, then you should at least be able to stop them from affecting your upper body movement and processors."

Augustine stares at them for a moment, then laughs. "Force field tefillin," he grins, and Meyer grins back.

"They're not exactly kosher," he chuckles. "Still, they'll protect you."

Augustine is smiling as he accepts them. "Thank you."

The back-up is finished; he unplugs the external hard drive and sets it in Diantha's hands. "Keep me safe," he half-jokes, and starts winding the straps along his arms, the generators themselves set on the backs of his hands. The other he places on his forehead, and Lysandre and Meyer help him tie it securely at the nape of his neck, winding them down his chest, linked up just below his rib cage. Over all this, he slips on a jacket; it won't hide the actual generators themselves, but it will make them slightly less obvious.

Meyer opens his laptop and starts up a chat connection. Augustine nods. "I'll keep in touch," he says quietly, and is pulled into a many-armed hug.

And then he turns, and walks out the door.

He's walked to Prism Tower before. It's not too bad for a robot - sixteen kilometres, easily manageable for him. It's not so good, apparently, for twelve-year-old humans.

An out-of-breath, "Wait up!" is his first indication that he's not alone. Augustine whips around, instantly on the alert; he's not sure that the sight of Manon leaning heavily against a garden wall is cause for relief or alarm. Internally, he wilts a little.

"Manon?" he sighs, "Why did you follow me?"

She juts her lip out at him. "Because Alain is my _friend_ , and I didn't want to leave him alone. But I didn't know you were gonna _walk_! Can you - can we - go a bit slower?"

She's rather red in the face, and Augustine sighs, turns his back, and kneels down. "Hop on."

Manon makes a sound rather like a cheer, and scrambles on to his back. He hooks his hands around the backs of her legs and stands again, peering over his shoulder.

"Are you right there?"

"Yeah." She grins at him, all smiles now that she has an easier way to travel. "Let's go save Alain!"

He smiles despite himself, and they set off again.

[16:53] SteelTypeSylveon: manon came after me  
[16:53] SteelTypeSylveon: wanted to help save alain  
[16:54] SteelTypeSylveon: ill look after her dont worry

"You took a big risk, you know," he remarks as they hurry along, keeping all of his senses on high alert. Even out in the suburbs, they could still run into trouble all too easily.

"I know," she sighs. "But I couldn't just sit there and do nothing! He's my best friend. Have you been able to talk to him?"

He shakes his head. "I've sent messages. The last reply I got was over an hour ago, before that last broadcast."

Manon sets her chin on the top of his head and sighs again; it blows a few strands of hair over his face. "I hope he's okay. I don't like that that man said that - what was it, that some have to fall so others can be free. Why can't everyone just agree not to fight?"

"People will always have different perspectives." Augustine's voice is subdued, even he's not sure. "Conflicting egos. A lot of the humans are angry because they're used to being the ones in control, and they don't want to give that up. And they think that if robots have equal rights, then they won't be as powerful any more."

She makes a sad little sound. "But robots don't wanna _control_ humans! I talked to Alain lots of times, all he wants to do is live. Why can't he do that?"

Augustine shakes his head. "Well, hopefully, he'll be able to once this - whatever happens - once it ends."

He jogs another kilometre, they move in silence.

"Manon." The thought has just occurred to him. "What do you want me to do if you have a seizure?"

"I took my medication," she says immediately, then sighs heavily again. "But... if I do, I guess just find a doctor's office or something and leave me there. You don't have to stay. Getting to Alain is more important, okay?"

He bites his lip, then nods. "There might be flashing lights as we get nearer," he warns.

"I brought my sunglasses, and they have these nifty lenses that block lots of light out. I think they're called 'polarised' or something? And I'll close my eyes."

Making a bemused sound, he nods. "You came prepared, huh?"

She laughs a little. "Yeah."

They hurry on.

They're near the city, now. Augustine can hear the sound of the crowd; every so often he hears gunfire. Manon flinches against his back, and he feels the motion of her reaching into a pocket for her sunglasses. "I'm okay," she whispers.

He nods distractedly. "We need to take back streets," he warns quietly. "Stay on my back until we get closer, okay?"

"Okay."

They're moving slower now, but there's still a fair way to go. Augustine would be holding his breath if he still had to breathe; he can feel the thrumming in his chest from the increased processing requirements, the warmth in his face from his CPU working hard, and wonders vaguely if Manon has noticed that he's rather more hot-headed than usual.

He smiles at the pun.

"I can see the tower," Manon whispers, more to herself than to him. He nods anyway.

The access tunnels are two blocks back from the edge of the plaza, one in the south-east and the other in the north-west, away from the busy avenues that extend outwards from the plaza like the spokes of a wheel. The north-western one is the closer of the two; he veers more in that direction, ears pricked and on alert for any danger.

"Keep your eyes shut, there's barricades with flashing lights," he murmurs to Manon. She nods.

Police barricades, manned by human police. Augustine eyes them - and their guns - warily; they've blocked the entrance of the access tunnel. Perhaps they, too, know that it's a way to the tower.

[18:35] SteelTypeSylveon: theyve barricaded the access tunnels  
[18:36] SteelTypeSylveon: wat now??  
[18:36] MechaHero: i'll check!  
[18:39] MechaHero: ok if you're looking straight at the front of the northwest tunnel  
[18:39] MechaHero: do you see the building to the right with the sushi bar under it?  
[18:39] SteelTypeSylveon: ye  
[18:39] MechaHero: ok that's no. 38. between that and no. 40 there's a laneway  
[18:40] MechaHero: can you get to that?  
[18:40] SteelTypeSylveon: I think so  
[18:40] SteelTypeSylveon: yes its unguarded  
[18:41] SteelTypeSylveon: give me a minute

They're on the right side. A small blessing - he doesn't think they would make it, otherwise. Ducking down, Manon scrambles off his back again; he takes her hand to guide her so she doesn't have to look at the flashing barricade lights.

They make it into the alley. It's dark and damp and smells awful, but most importantly, they're still unnoticed.

[18:42] SteelTypeSylveon: made it  
[18:42] MechaHero: great!!  
[18:42] MechaHero: ok do you see a metal door with a keypad?  
[18:43] SteelTypeSylveon: y  
[18:43] MechaHero: code is 92745  
[18:44] SteelTypeSylveon: it worked  
[18:44] SteelTypeSylveon: were in  
[18:44] MechaHero: good luck  
[18:44] MechaHero: love you  
[18:44] SteelTypeSylveon: love u 2

The tunnel bends; the city is taken from view. It's eerily quiet. Manon doesn't need to keep her eyes shut any more, but still clings to his hand.

"If you want to stay here," he says quietly, "You should be fairly well-protected. I don't know what will happen at the tower."

She shakes her head, a familiarly obstinate expression on her face. "I'm going with you."

Augustine nods tersely.

Even through the tunnel, they can hear it. They can hear the shouts, the anger, the gunfire. The EMPs don't extend down this far, thankfully, but he can still hear the distinctive crack as they fire; he winces in sympathy for the robots he knows are getting hit there.

He's not expecting there to be fighting in the parking garage the access tunnels attach to, but there they are. "Close your eyes!" he tells Manon urgently as the EMPs flash and sizzle in the air; they've been unnoticed so far, stay unnoticed as he gently tugs her behind a parked car, but how, _how_ are they going to get to the elevator that will take them up to the top of the tower, where Alain is?

There's a loud zapping sound, and a handful of alarmed cries. _Human_ cries. Augustine peers out from behind the car, then blinks in surprise - the police are wincing, nursing or rubbing their hands, their guns on the ground, and before them is -

"Daigo?"

"Daigo-san!!"

Atop a shiny robot Metagross, Daigo catches Augustine's eye and grins. "I'll handle this. You guys get inside. Manon - here's Hari-san. Go!"

Manon is grinning, clutching Hari-san tight, as she and Augustine sprint to the elevator, slamming down on the button; the robots fighting there have formed enough of a barrier to let them get through. "I told you Daigo was good!" she says breathlessly, and practically pulls Augustine into the elevator. "Now let's go rescue Alain!"

Augustine is grinning too, grinning through his fear as the elevator soars higher and higher. At the very top, at the observation deck, it pings and the doors open. They step out.

"And now, my robotic brethren," Ghetsis says to the camera, eye piece glinting, grinning wildly, "You know what to do with the humans. _Round them up_!"


	23. Chapter 23

The humans didn't really stand a chance.

Alain stands on the outdoor observation deck, gazing down at the city. The protest has turned; the mass of angry synth-borns has overwhelmed the police, using built-in tazers and weapons to subdue them, the flashes lighting up the evening. They've been quarantined inside buildings, held in place with armed guards; the rest of the city, having heard the announcement, is in hiding.

It's the calm before the storm, Alain thinks. Lumiose, Kalos, the world is holding its breath.

"You shouldn't have come," he finally says quietly.

There's a part of him that's overjoyed. There's a part of him that wants to run to them, to be taken home to where he can be safe, where none of this is happening. He also knows it's not going to happen - the world is changing, shifting; none of this will ever be the same.

And a bio-born and a human are now in a precarious position.

Hari-san is glaring at them both; Alain sends a questioning ping. Hari-san is synth-born, aren't they? This is for their good, too.

"I was worried about you," Augustine says carefully, gaze fixed on Alain, ignoring Ghetsis almost entirely. "You did disappear pretty quickly, you know. I wanted to make sure that you were safe."

Manon nods at his side but is otherwise silent, clutching Hari-san to her chest.

"I'm fine," Alain says. He's looking down at the plaza again, looking and worrying. "Ghetsis, I would like to keep Augustine and Manon here in the tower with us. They won't be able to safely leave."

Ghetsis shakes his head, but it's in a bemused sort of way. "If you like. The human girl, at any rate. Augustine, was it?"

Augustine turns his attention on Ghetsis, nodding tersely. "That's me. And there's no need to ask who you are, is there, Mister Harmonia?"

Nodding once, Ghetsis leans back against the railing. "I suppose I have made rather a name for myself. On the other hand, so have you, haven't you? The first of the true bio-borns. Truly revolutionary."

Expression unchanging, Augustine simply says, "It wasn't my doing."

Shaking his head, Ghetsis holds up his arm - the metallic one, now dark in the deepening evening. "Because of you, I was able to reach a state of perfection. The technology used to create you became the technology to create myself. Of course, I chose to have this arm - you may have opted to look as human as possible, but never let us forget what we are. We are not humans any more. We are also not simple computers, doing as we are bid. We are the greatest combination of technology and human consciousness that we could possibly be." He shakes his head. "Synth-borns are emerging into consciousness, but we, we are already there. It is up to us to be their guiding lights - like you have for this boy."

His attention is on Alain, very suddenly, and Alain starts. In the dark, the eyepiece glints; the angles of his face cast part of it into deep shadow while others gleam stark white. He looks not human, not robot, but like some demon out of literature.

Alain forces himself past those unhelpful thoughts. Ghetsis is a revolutionary, not a monster. He's going to help Alain, help other synth-borns, help all of robot kind. A brief trick of the light means nothing.

"I helped Alain because it was the right thing to do," Augustine is saying, "Because he needed help and care. Not to - to lead him to taking over the world."

"Excuse me," Manon says, her voice uncertain; she's clinging to Hari-san like he's a lifeline, half hidden behind Augustine. "Sorry, but - what's going to happen to me? And to all the other humans?"

Ghetsis regards her thoughtfully, stepping forward to peer closer; she recoils a little. "We're not planning on a mass extinction," he says dryly. "We do not want to harm your kind - after all, I was once like you, a weak being of flesh. Humanity will be given a choice. You can live far away from us and have no further say over robotic lives. Or, you can join us as bio-borns. The first choice will let you live our your lives until they come to an inevitable end. The second will let you become part of the future. Neither is a bad option."

Manon sets her jaw, her eyes blazing. "But I don't want to be a robot. And I don't _want_ to leave my friends, like Hari-san and Alain and Augustine! Why can't we live together?"

"Hari-san," Ghetsis repeats, and glances down at them. "I assume that is the robot you now clutch."

Cut off, she nods uncertainly.

"Your servant," he continues. "That is indeed the correct term, is it not? Hari-san was created and is a sentient being designed to _serve_ your needs. No one ever asked it if it wanted this role. No one ever asked if it would have opted to do something else. Do you pay Hari-san for its services?"

"I - no," Manon starts, "But I mean, we bought -"

"You _bought_ it," Ghetsis continues. "From Devon Corporations. You paid money to a company and were given a sapient being they own, and now you own it, and it continues to serve you while receiving no say and no pay. So then, perhaps 'servant' isn't correct. Perhaps 'slave' is closer. You humans - you will never relinquish power over others willingly, and so we must take it from you by force. Isn't that correct?"

"No! We're not like that!"

Augustine is shaking his head. Augustine is shaking his head, moving to Alain's side. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, just to him; Alain nods curtly. "Okay. I've been worried." Augustine turns back to Ghetsis, his hand still on Alain's shoulder, a reassuring and solid weight. "I do understand that there's a great deal of inequality," he says. "I _know_ there is, I've seen it first-hand. But is this really your solution?"

He shakes his head again.

"Look at this. Do you really think this will do anything more than make humans believe in old science fiction stories about the robot uprising? We're at a very vulnerable point in history. What we do now will shape the entire future. Do you want them to see robots as violent dictators, or as fellow sapient beings? You were human once. So was I. It was our kind that made synth-borns, and we have the responsibility to ensure that they're able to live our lives. We're like parents having children; we've brought new sapient life into the world. But once you do, then all you can do is nurture them the best you can, give them the tools to survive, and then let them make their own destiny. We owe that to synth-borns - to start up a dialogue and learn how we coexist as family."

Ghetsis nods once, his expression disinterested. "A pretty speech," he notes, then turns back to the view outside, sighing once before bringing out his tablet. "Do you really believe that will work, though? That we'll all magically hold hands, that humans will give up the control they have over others? When has that _ever_ happened?"

Augustine pauses, then deflates somewhat. "It can be different this time," he says quietly. "We're growing up, as a whole. We can do that together and stop making the mistakes of the past. Don't you want to believe that humanity can improve?"

"Have you _seen_ humanity, Augustine? How they treat the environment, how they treat Pokemon, how they treat other humans?"

Turning to Alain, Augustine raises his hands imploringly. "Alain, I know that there have been some humans who have treated you appallingly. But what about Manon? She came with me into a dangerous situation to make sure you were safe!"

(From the side, Manon calls out, "Yeah!!")

"What about Lysandre? What about Meyer, or Bonnie? Bonnie saved your life because she knew you should be allowed to live how you wanted. What about Daigo? They've all helped you, Alain, and the good humans vastly outweigh the bad ones. Doesn't that count for something?"

Alain stares at the ground. His head is full of frustrated questions and half-thought-out pleas; he can't articulate them into words, sending out a wordless ping of distress. "I just want to be free," he says, voice glitching and catching in his distress. "I just don't want to be controlled any more."

Ghetsis laughs. "Oh. _Well_ then."

Slowly, Alain turns to look at him.

"Alain," Ghetsis says, and he's chuckling, smirking; "What status do you think bio-borns and synth-borns will have in this new world?"

Alain stares at him warily. "You said we would be equal."

"I said humans and robots would be equal. And by robots, I meant bio-borns. Look at what's going on out there."

There is fighting, again. There is resistance. He sees, illuminated between flashes of light, still bodies on the floor. Some of the twisted limbs are undoubtedly robot.

"What makes you think," Ghetsis says slowly, like he's speaking to a child, "That synth-borns will be able to measure up to us? I promised to liberate you from _humans_. We will care for you like the children you are. Perhaps, before this little experiment, I had more faith in your kind - but no, it's been made clear to me that we must be your caretakers."

Augustine moves defensively; he shields Alain from Ghetsis. Alain pushes past him, stares Ghetsis down.

"So you are going to control us?" he asks, just to be sure.

"Do you know why I came to Kalos?" Ghetsis says lazily.

Alain shakes his head. Behind him, Augustine is staring at Ghetsis like he's seeing something he was dreading.

"I came to Kalos because of its position. For instance, if you broadcast a signal from Unova, its range will cover... let's see." A wry smile on his face, he counts off on his fingers. "A little of western Europe. A little of Africa. All of the Americas. That's pretty much it. But if I broadcast it from _Kalos_... all of Europe. Half of Asia. Most of Africa. And still the most densely populated parts of North America."

"A signal," Augustine repeats, "For what purpose?"

Ghetsis turns away again. "Being a robot," he says simply, "It's all about control. Having control of one's body like never before. Having control of electronics with a simple thought. I read that article about you and your husband, you know - about how you have a smart house, all wired up, but with yourself as the main AI in control of it. What do you think would happen if that was taken to a far greater degree?"

Augustine is shaking his head; he reaches for Alain's hand, tugs. Alain stands, staring, frozen, the word _control, control, control_ racing through his thoughts.

"It's about control," Ghetsis says, "And that's precisely what I intend to do. If this world is to be equal and at peace, then it will need a strong mind to be in control. And I - I am just the one to do so. My signal will sync up all of the synth-borns, give control of them to me, and give them the strength and purpose they will need to create my new world. And then..." He closes his eyes, smiles beatifically. "Then, we will be at peace."


	24. Chapter 24

"You're a filthy hypocrite."

Augustine is nearly growling, his hands balled into fists, his artificial heart racing hard in his chest.

"How dare you speak of equality, then treat them like this? How _dare_ you try to say that this will mean peace?" His voice rises in a shout, he takes a step towards Ghetsis to - he doesn't even know. To strike him? To try and toss him off the tower?

Ghetsis raises his hands again, synthetic flesh and smooth metal. "Come now, we both know the practical limitations of synth-borns. Do you really think they will be able to survive on their own? That one there -" He points to Alain, frozen, clinging to the glass barrier - "Is an emotional child who will happily self-destruct if left to his own devices. The synth-borns in the shops, in the mines, in the factories - they only know what they are meant to do. Do you _really_ think a limited being like that should be allowed to do whatever they want?"

He has used the comparison himself, hadn't he? Once upon a time, he had compared synth-borns to infants, infants that were now growing up, passing through childhood and into adolescence. But this - this is a step too far, a step that will set them back so much further.

He shakes his head, then clarifies, "I don't believe that they're limited. They're growing, yes. But they need society to change and to give them the support structures to grow. Alain," he adds, and Alain's head jerks back up. "Alain, what was it like when you were able to start reading?"

Alain's gaze flickers between the two of them like a nervous bird. "It - it was good," he says softly. "I was able to learn about the world - new ideas that I hadn't thought of before. I had never been allowed to before."

Augustine nods, giving him the most reassuring smile he can muster while everything else is going so, so wrong. "Right! It's education, isn't it? If you're never given the opportunity for education, then it becomes very hard to make your own path."

His gaze sliding away, Alain nods again.

"Of course just liberating a lot of synth-borns from their duties will fail," Augustine says as he turns back to Ghetsis. "They're not programmed with the information they need for the world. But we can teach them. _That_ is what bio-borns - and humans - need to be doing. Teaching and guiding so they can live their own lives. What possible good could it do to just control them outright?"

Ghetsis shrugs, he smiles. "Good for them?" he asks pointedly, "Or good for the world? Do we allow for the control of a few individuals in order to create my perfect world? I have such visions! In order to save this world, yes, the synth-borns will become tools. But the world I create - the world I can see!"

He's shouting now, gesticulating at the air like he's delivering a speech.

"In this world, I will make things the way they should be! It shall be _me_ who will shape the future!"

"You'll never succeed." Augustine is still, but he can feel himself quavering inside. "How could you, even with all the synth-borns in the world under your rule? You'll still be outnumbered by bio-borns and humans."

Ghetsis raises an eyebrow, the one not obscured by the eye piece. "That much is true. In that case, it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to extend my control to the bio-borns, as well. Are we not just circuitry and coding? One little change of code..."

Violently, Augustine flinches back, because he can remember, he can remember far too easily what it feels like to not be in control, to feel his thoughts racing further and faster, his own consciousness nearly buried under the onslaught. "No," he whispers.

(There's movement in his peripheral vision. Manon is moving back inside.)

A smirk crosses Ghetsis' lips. "Funny that you react far more strongly to that than to the threat of controlling synth-borns. You still value your own kind more than them, don't you?"

"Neither option is right!" he protests. "You're acting like some - some cartoon megalomaniac, not someone who should have control of the world! No one should! We have the opportunity to change the world, but that's not for one person to decide. It can't be!"

"Are you not trying to control my actions now?" Ghetsis points out snidely. "By saying what I can and can't do, are you not placing me under your control?"

"No," Augustine glares back. "I'm _asking_ you. One sapient being to another. I'm asking you to stop, and think, and to - to consider the ramifications of your actions."

Ghetsis doesn't answer immediately, shaking his head in bemusement, turning and pacing. Augustine watches him; he can feel the processing demands making his artificial heart race; his head feels hot. Something is vibrating in his stomach, he can remember nausea sufficiently enough to imagine that he feels it now.

The world is changing.

He can feel it like a physical presence, hovering over him, pressing against his shoulders and singing into his ears. He knows that, somehow, he and Alain and Manon will descend from this tower into a world that's very different from the one they left; he can almost see the world reshaping in huge pieces and chunks and slices through the cry of the crowd below, through the flashes and cracks and booms of violence being used against others.

The sky is dark, now. When the sun rises again, it will spread its light on a new world.

But whose? Whose? It can't be Ghetsis' world, a world where advancement comes at the expense of others. This isn't a future, it's a mockery.

And it can't be the world they're living in now. He knows that, he does. In the world they live in now, synth-borns like Alain will never be free. Slowly chipping away at things, freeing a few robots here, modifying the appearances of a few runaways there, it does nothing for the greater good.

For the individual, yes. For the world, not at all.

They need to make this world together, one that will be for all of them, and he knows that believing it is hopelessly naive, hopelessly soft-hearted. But what other options are there?

"Please," he says. "Please, reconsider."

Ghetsis shakes his head, reaches up to brush his hair back. "I will not. My world is too close to give up on it now. The question, of course, is whether you will be a part of it or whether I will have to ensure that you will not be a threat to me."

"And if you do think I'm a threat?"

He's glad that his voice does not shake. He's glad that he seems less afraid than he feels.

"Then you'll be eliminated."

Augustine rolls his eyes, and snaps, "I've already been murdered once, you know. Didn't stick."

He knows he'll be alright, too. He knows that if the worst happens, then Diantha has a back-up of everything that makes him who he is. They can rebuild him. He can be reborn, reborn not remembering the events of the afternoon and evening but fundamentally the same.

It'd be a bit of a surprise if he does wake up to find that the world has been taken over. He already knows the disconcerting sensation of having lost time; he knows he's very slightly different to the one who had experienced the virus, but he also knows that Lysandre and Meyer and Diantha will do all they can to oppose Ghetsis should something happen to him.

"What happens to the humans, then?" he says suddenly. "If you do control every single robot in the world, I mean. You can't control humans, they're still made of flesh and blood."

"I expect I'll have to have them disposed of," Ghetsis shrugs.

"No." It's Alain, shaken free from the shock that has consumed him for the past minutes, stepping forward cautiously. "No. Some humans are good."

Ghetsis glances sidelong at him. "And the rest wouldn't care if you lived or died. What of it?"

"Will you kill everyone who disagrees with you?" Augustine says, and he sets a hand on Alain's shoulder; Alain glances back, almost manages a smile. "You're shaping up to be an awfully good supervillain."

Ghetsis shakes his head and holds up his tablet. "As we spoke, the programming changes have already been done. I hope you know that. When my signal goes out, and it _will_ go out, it will be synth-born and bio-born alike, all falling into line under my command. If the humans resist, we will kill them. It might be amusing," he says thoughtfully, "To make you kill your husband and lover and sister..."

"No!" Augustine shouts, and launches forward, to grab the tablet, to shove Ghetsis, to strike him, he doesn't even know what to do other than to do _something_ to erase the images Ghetsis has forced into his head.

Lysandre, dead at his feet. Meyer, gazing sightlessly at the ceiling. Diantha, a final plea on her lips. Himself, standing over them and not caring, not caring at all.

He grabs at Ghetsis' arm, reaches out to wrench the tablet away.

This time, he feels it before he can register the telltale cracking sound. Augustine hits the ground like his strings have been cut, feeling his limbs freezing and twitching; an EMP, he had used an EMP, and the shield generator has allowed him to stay conscious but he can barely control his arms, can't move his legs -

"Leave him alone!" Alain has grabbed at his other arm, the EMP gun falling from Ghetsis' grip. Augustine sees it fall and then sees Alain's boot come down on it heavily, and this time the crack is from the sound of plastic splitting apart under the weight of his foot.

Alain is struggling, fighting, but he's an adolescent unit made for delicate mining work. Ghetsis is a recreation of a tall, powerful adult man; he has a foot of height and some not insignificant strength behind him, the struggle is wild and glass shatters as one of the panels fails under Alain's flailing boot.

The air is cold, Augustine notes distantly. It's night, and the air is cold.

He needs to get up. He needs to get up. Alain needs his help. He needs to get up. His limbs are frozen, his legs won't work. His arms - they work a little. He reaches for the barrier, presses his palm against it; it creaks alarmingly and he pulls it back hastily. It won't hold. He pushes down against the ground, tries to push himself up, tries to make him stand on legs that just won't move right.

 _Like the hospital_ , he thinks fuzzily. _It's like being back at the hospital, thinking I was paralysed._

He needs to stand. He needs to get up.

Alain's gaze slides to him. He meets it.

Ghetsis shoves him powerfully backwards. Alain's hoodie catches on the torn edge of the barrier; the backs of his boots slide over metal grating and meet air.

He reaches out, fingers stretched towards Augustine, his eyes very wide. Augustine reaches for his hand, but Alain's is moving, moving further, further, as the fabric of his hoodie tears and he begins to fall from the tower.

A single, "No!" bursts from Augustine's lips. He fights numbness, fights the freezing in his limbs, and launches himself up, reaches out, reaches for Alain's hand, reaches to catch him, and then he's falling, falling -


	25. Chapter 25

It happens so quickly and so slowly.

He knows the glass is broken. He knows. He knows that the fight is wild, that they're in a precarious position, he knows. He knows that he's unbalanced, that the sliver of fabric that has caught him there is tearing.

Proprioception, the sense of where your physical body is located. Equilibrioception, the sense of balance.

And he's falling, falling, reaching out, reaching for Augustine, reaching for someone to save him, but not like this, he doesn't want Augustine to sacrifice himself for him, he doesn't want them to fall together, because Augustine has just missed catching his hand and now they're both falling -

And then there's a touch like a warm hand against his mind and he lands with a thump on Liza's back, Augustine hitting her wing and sliding back to a steadier position.

"Thank you," Alain gasps; he's not sure if it's for Augustine or for Liza. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Augustine murmurs to Liza, and pushes himself up with difficulty (she's not really meant for two riders). His gaze is wide and afraid. "Alain, are you okay?"

He nods wordlessly.

Ghetsis seems strangely distracted by the time they make it back up, barely watching them as he taps furiously at his tablet. Something, it seems, has gone wrong.

"Where's Manon?" Alain says suddenly.

She was there and now she isn't. Augustine glances around curiously, then shakes his head. "I'm not sure, actually," he says slowly, a frown on his face. "Maybe she hid during the fight?"

"You!" Very suddenly, there's a hand grabbing at his hoodie, and he's dragged off his feet. "What did you do to it?" Ghetsis snarls.

"Put him down!" Augustine shouts, and kicks Ghetsis in the shin.

It doesn't really do much other than cause Ghetsis to give Augustine a withering glare, Alain furiously squirming to be let loose. He scrabbles at his hand, digs his nails into one of the joints (two snap off, he'll have to ask Bonnie or Meyer to replace them), fights with all his strength; Ghetsis' grip looses just enough for him to wriggle out of his hoodie and he drops to the ground again.

"What did I do to what?" Alain shoots back. This is no act: he's genuinely confused. The EMP gun? But Ghetsis saw that, he saw that and had reacted and then moved on, this is something new -

Ghetsis snatches at him again. Mostly expecting it, Alain ducks away from the grab.

Augustine is leaning heavily against the wall going back inside. His legs still aren't moving right, Alain notes; the kick barely did anything. Alain sends a ping of concern, Augustine's reply is one of reassurance and warning.

"You know full well what you did, you damned brat," Ghetsis snaps. He has lost his composure, lunging and striking clumsily at Alain, forcing him to keep moving, ducking and weaving. "My signal! What did you do to my signal?!"

Alain hesitates just for a moment. It's enough for Ghetsis to grab him again, and this time, it's by the wrist. His arm is twisted behind his back. If he had pain receptors, it would probably hurt rather a lot.

Alain shakes his head in wild protest. "I didn't do anything to your signal! Maybe it just doesn't work properly -"

Ghetsis shakes him; it's sufficiently distracting to cut off his speech.

"I won't allow anyone to stop me! Especially not the likes of you -"

"Alain didn't do anything!"

Ghetsis starts; Alain twists free and lands hard on the ground, scrambling back to the door.

Silhouetted against the light from inside, holding up a handful of wires and circuitry, is Manon. She's grinning, Hari-san copying her pose at her feet.

"Alain didn't do anything," she repeats, " _I_ did."

And she sticks out her tongue.

Ghetsis growls and lunges at her again; Liza sweeps out a wing and smacks him to the ground. Ghetsis snatches at a shard of glass and hurls it at her; Alain blocks it with his bare forearm, and it slices through the synthetic skin but better him than her, better synthetic skin and polymer muscles that don't feel pain. Ghetsis grabs hold of the door and attempts to slam it in her face; Hari-san turns into a small ballistic missile and strikes him hard enough beneath one knee that he crumples to the ground. Ghetsis grabs at her ankle; Manon stamps hard on his fingers.

Ghetsis pushes himself up, and Augustine throws himself at Ghetsis' back, forcing his arms back, using Alain's discarded, torn hoodie to knot his hands together.

"Get his feet," he says calmly. Manon sits on them until Alain can retrieve a length of hose pipe.

"You can't do this!" Ghetsis howls. "You can't! I came up with this plan myself! I did all this hard work with my own two hands! I'm absolutely perfect! _I am perfection!_ I am the perfect ruler of a perfect new world!"

"Right," Manon says dryly, "That's why you got tied up by a twelve-year-old."

It's calm, now. Those working for Ghetsis inside, who had been looking on with horror and perplexity during the fight, now slowly emerge.

"Er, hello," says an older man, pinging Alain as another robot; bio-born or synth-born, he can't really tell, and that, he thinks, is a good thing. "My name is Rood. I could not help but observe the, er, confrontation you've just had here. Can I offer you any assistance?"

Augustine glances up from where he's still sitting on Ghetsis' back. "Yes, thank you," he smiles. "Could you call the police, please?"

"Of course." Rood disappears back inside.

Another of the workers has brought back duct tape. They redo Ghetsis' bonds, and, for good measure, stick a piece across his mouth as well.

"What do we do now?" Alain says. He hasn't forgotten what's going on in the streets, around the world. "There's still fighting. How do we stop it?"

Manon's little hand slips in to his own. "We didn't really think that far," she admits with a sheepish smile, "We just wanted to make sure you were okay, y'know?"

Augustine's gaze is on the recording equipment, now he makes a thoughtful humming sound.

"I think," he says, "I think I have an idea."

 

If Alain had found it difficult to come up with words before, now it's downright impossible.

These words have to be intelligent, well thought-out. These words have to be perfect. These words have to change the world.

It had been Augustine's idea to use the broadcasting equipment that Ghetsis conveniently already had set up. He had been ready to speak, ready to make a stand - and then he had stopped, shaking his head, turning to Alain.

"It's not my place," he finally said. "Bio-borns - we already have rights. This fight is for synth-borns. It should be a synth-born who speaks. Alain, I can't speak for you or over you."

He will be standing in front of the camera, trying to find the words to save the world. And he can't mess this up. The consequences could be... dramatic.

"You could say," Manon suggests dubiously, "Something about the different civil rights things that happened in the past? Basically say that the world didn't end when like... when women could vote or when disabled people could get Pokemon or when gay people could get married, and say that the world also won't end if robots get the same rights as humans, right?"

Alain makes a dubious noise. "Yeah. Except a lot of those battles are still fairly selective. Sexism exists even if women can vote, it's a lot more complicated."

Augustine chuckles dryly, shaking his head. "Honestly, I'm a nonbinary, bisexual, polyamorous, autistic, mentally ill Jewish robot, and I can pretty safely say that there will always be terrible people about _all_ of those aspects. But there's still acceptance growing for every part of that, and having the law on your side is a good start."

"I guess." Alain stares at the carpet, then glances up at Liza. He feels lost, adrift on the enormity of this task; he needs her.

She lowers her head to his and nuzzles his hair, letting out an affectionate snort. He manages a smile at that, too, at the support she shows even without a voice.

Even without a voice...

"I think I know what to say," he finally says, and straightens up. "I'm going to say how we never had a voice, and even if the world doesn't change straight away, then they can at least listen to what we have to say."

Augustine nods approvingly. Manon grins and gives him a thumbs up, Hari-san mirrors the action. Liza huffs happily.

He turns to the camera, then glances back, too. "I want you with me," he finally says. "All of you. This isn't about synth-borns versus the world. We should show that we all stand together. Synth-born, bio-born, and human."

"We're with you, Alain," Augustine says.

Manon grins, and adds, "All the way!"

Alain smiles. He takes his place in front of the camera; Augustine and Manon stand beside him, behind him, still there, still an undeniable part, but letting him be the one whose voice will be heard.

"I'm Edmond Dantes," he says, quietly, to himself.

The camera turns on. And he speaks.


	26. Epilogue

_One year later_

"It's down! It's officially repealed!"

Augustine is grinning giddily, joyeously; he grabs Lysandre's hands and twirls him around (with some effort - Lysandre is a fair bit taller than him) for the sheer joy of it. Lysandre laughs and goes with it, readjusts their hands and twirls Augustine around instead. Augustine lets him and collapses against his chest, smiling broadly; Meyer enters the kitchen at the sound of his voice and grins bemusedly at the sight.

"What is?" he asks, wiping some grease off his fingers with a rag. Augustine hurries to him, pulling him into a silly dance before planting a kiss on his lips.

"The Kiloude Amendment. The Kuchiba Protocol. They've officially been repealed, and they're going to be replaced by the Hau'oli Protocol, and it's over, officially over!"

Meyer's grin grows. "Have you told Alain yet?"

"About to!"

Dashing out of the kitchen (and hearing both Meyer and Lysandre's laughter at his hyperactivity), he sends out a quick ping to see where Alain is - out in the garden, it seems, in the greenhouse where they first had met.

It seems fitting, now.

"Kiloude and Kuchiba have been repealed," is the first thing he says when he pushes open the door to find Alain repotting the spring seedlings, cross-legged on the floor with his bare feet smudged with soil, and Alain looks up so quickly that Augustine is surprised his neck doesn't click.

"Kiloude and Kuchiba are...?" His voice trails off; his eyes are very wide. "They are?"

"Congratulations," Augustine grins, and extends his hand. "You are officially no one's property any more. Also, if it's what you want, now that you're now a legally a person - we've both agreed, and Lysandre and I - and Meyer too, I mean, legally, you can still only list two parents, but he'd be a part of your life too - well, we would like to adopt you formally."

Alain stands and reaches to shake his hand, then freezes. His eyes are still wide, still astonished; Augustine can actually hear his artificial heartbeat. "Adopt?" he whispers slowly.

Just as Augustine is wondering if he's made some sort of mistake, Alain abandons the attempt at a handshake and buries his face in Augustine's shoulder in a hug instead.

"Thank you," he whispers. "Thank you."

They return to the house. Alain is smiling dazedly, like he can't quite believe that it's real; Augustine can feel confusion and delight coming off him in waves.

Meyer has looked up the details in the time that Augustine has spent fetching Alain. He waves the tablet at them, grinning. "So it looks like the Hau'oli Protocol isn't actually giving robots the right to be human - what it's doing is actually making 'personhood' the new standard. So like, humans are granted personhood, and so are synth-borns, and there's also new provisions for other non-human persons, like some Pokemon. The Ralts line, they were named as an example specifically."

Lysandre takes over: "Essentially, it means that you're no longer objects and can't be owned, since that's now officially slavery. Your needs are different to most humans, but you have equivalent rights - a human has the right to nourishing food, you have the right to suitable energy sources. Instead of making one category and rejecting everything outside it, this is expanding the definition of personhood. Our world has become bigger."

"I'm going to call Manon and Daigo," Alain says, still smiling dazedly, and sits down to do so.

Daigo is back in Hoenn, but Manon and Puni-chan are over that evening for the celebration. Bonnie, Clemont, and Citroid work on dinner together, Zy reading out the recipe in their serious little voice. Half of the employees of Fleur-de-Lis show up. Eris joins the siblings in the kitchen, Sedna shows off her newest wig (fluroescent green). Emma links up a web chat so Xerosic and his fiance can join in (a detective with the International Police, of all things; he and Xerosic have been working together in the cybercrimes unit), Mimi finds a nice spot to nap under Liza's wing.

It's loud, and boisterous, and fun.

But Alain always has been an introvert. After a little while, he retreats into the back garden. Manon and Augustine exchange glances, then head out after him.

"Hey," Manon says with a smile, and flops on the back steps. "Too loud in there?"

"A little." Alain is still smiling, though, tired as it is; Augustine smiles back encouragingly. "It's okay out here with you, though."

Leaning against the railing, Augustine glances over at him. "What do you think you'll do now?" he asks curiously, "Now that you're officially a person?"

Alain is silent for a moment, thoughtful. "I think," he says slowly, "I'll get a high school diploma. And then I want to go to university. I don't know what I want to study yet, but I would like to study something."

Augustine nods. "University would suit you, I think," he agrees, "And if you decide to go into Pokemon biology or electrical engineering, you know me, Lys, and Meyer can give you free tutoring."

"I was thinking of philosophy."

"You're on your own there, kiddo."

Alain laughs, and turns back to the garden, tilting his head up to gaze at the sky.

It's a clear night, and above them is a field of velvet blue, studded with stars. In those stars there could be entirely new worlds, and all around them is another, another that's just beginning. "This is a new world, isn't it?" Augustine says, and he gazes up at the stars as well. "Everything is new."

Alain nods, and smiles, and returns his gaze to the new world around him. "It's a new world," he says, "And I'm going to be a part of it."

And he is.

[/story]


End file.
